


The Ferryman

by NyeLung



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: AWE-AU, Alternate Universe, Immortality, Jack Sparrow - Captain! - shenanigans, James as Captain of the Dutchman, M/M, slow-build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyeLung/pseuds/NyeLung
Summary: When James Norrington chooses a side on board the Flying Dutchman, his choice changes the balance of powers on the seven seas. Control over the Dutchman decides the end of the war against piracy. But control over the Dutchman also includes a duty that James has to fulfill.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narina/gifts).



> Alternate Universe thanks to the Deleted Scene 'Swann Song' for At World's Ending.

# The Ferryman

### Prologue

_”Elizabeth, I swear, I did not know-”  
“Know what?... Which side you chose?” A few steps backwards, away from him. “Well, now you do.”_

James had known it even before Elizabeth spoke. There were no remedying circumstances on his side, only lame excuses like the one spoken by Lord Beckett which he had believed far too willingly. Governor Swann had never returned to England on his own and, if he had understood Elizabeth correctly, he had never reached his destination. James _had_ doubted the departure of Governor Swann but he hadn't wanted to believe that Lord Beckett would actually go as far as murdering the Governor. He hadn't wanted to believe that Lord Beckett would actually go as far to exterminate the pirates.

When he decided to give the heart of Davy Jones to Lord Beckett and the East India Trading Company, he had only wanted to restore his honour and name. His honour and his rank in the British Royal Navy still were important to him but he wondered if he would have done the same deeds if he had known how many corpses Lord Beckett was willing to walk over to exterminate piracy.

Elizabeth and her pirate crew were safely secured in the bilge of the _Flying Dutchman_. Her pirate crew. James snorted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust. He had loved Elizabeth, loved her still, but this was a path she should not have to walk. Her deeds had directly put her on Lord Cutler Beckett's execution list – which brought James back to his problem.

James Norrington hated pirates with a long-held fervour that had turned him into one of the most successful pirate hunters of the Caribbean. Contrary to Lord Beckett however, James honoured a code of tradition and decency. Sometimes, this had brought him trouble with pirates. Maybe Lord Beckett's path was the right one to exterminate piracy. James just could not stop his doubts whether the ends really justified the means.

Thoughtfully, James scrutinized his sword that had been given to him – aeons ago it seemed – by Governor Swann.

He was dead now, had died a meaningless death, because Beckett didn't need him any longer – and because the Governor had learnt of a secret that should have stayed a secret if it had been Lord Beckett's decision. A heavy sigh flew from his lips. He knew which side he had chosen. The question was, whether he wanted to continue living with this decision.

_”No”_ , his heart answered. His mind demanded facts, rational arguments. James could give none. Maybe this wasn't the time for pretty arguments and rationality. He had seen what Beckett did and would do, he had been the executioner and had stayed silent, just as ordered. His code of honour strongly agreed with his heart. Only short, did he allow his fingers to caress the ring box in his chest pocket.

James stood up from the place in his cabin. He had to free Elizabeth.

No, he stopped himself. That was the path of his heart but his rational mind reminded him that there were better ways to stop Lord Beckett from achieving his goal. He smiled determinedly when his feet led him to the captain's cabin. He knew what he had to do and he knew the price he had to pay.


	2. Chapter 1

### Chapter 1

Mullroy and Murtogg stood watch. James bit his lip to not laugh. Both were upstanding men and very enthusiastic as soon as pirates were to be hunted. On the other hand they tended to be distracted very fast, argued like a twenty years married couple and hadn't learned how to swim even after all these years serving under his command. As long as Mister Mercer wasn't here...

“Admiral … what leads you here?” Mister Mercer, the devil he had spoken of. Even after working next to him, James still wasn't sure what his position was, just that he worked as Beckett's personal right hand man and assassin. Maybe it had been Mister Mercer who had killed Governor Swann.

“I choose a side”, James answered with a hard tone. He drew his sword only slightly slower than Mister Mercer his pistol. But a sword was at a disadvantage on this distance.

Mister Mercer sighed as dramatically as a figure in a theatre play while cocking his gun. “It was to be expected that a man like you who still believes in the relics of honour of times long past chooses the side of the losers.”

James waited for the shot, just in case that he was maybe able to move aside that at least nothing life-important was hurt. Instead there was a low noise, Mister Mercers eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the ground with a smothered groan. Behind him, the face of Mister Murtogg showed, his bayonet still held high for another hit.

“What do you think you are doing, Mister Murtogg?” James tried not to look too irritated when asking this question.

“Asking for forgiveness, Sir.” Mister Murtogg straightened his posture. Mister Mullroy did the same. “Mister Mullroy and my humble self chose a side as well.” Respectfully, they took a step back from the chest and made sure their hands were not close to any kind of weapon. Murtogg put his bayonet down next to the chest. “With your permission, Sir, we'd like to take care of Mister Mercer.”

“Permission granted, Mister Mullroy, Mister Murtogg.” James forced himself not to smile. “I am sure Mister Mercer will be taken care of with you and not feel the call to heroic endeavours.”

The smile on both soldier's faces was answer enough.

“Sir, I think you'll be needing this.” Mister Mullroy had gone through Mister Mercer's pockets and found the key to Davy Jones' chest. Frankly thanking them, James took the key and watched the soldier's leave the cabin.

Was he dreaming or could he really hear the heart beating in its chest? Or was it his own thumping like mad because of his audacious choices? Carefully, he stepped closer to the chest, key in his hand. His fingers were trembling a little. Was he sure that he wanted to pay the price belonging to his decisions?

“Are you sure, you want to do that?”, a gentle voice asked behind him.

Surprised, James turned around to stand directly in front of a person that leaned carelessly at the captain chamber's closed door. He was unable to answer, too distracted was he with trying to sort this person into some category. Usually, it came easy to him but this person seemed to fall out of every category imaginable. But most of all, there was something “other” about this person, something inhuman, just not the way Barbossa's undead pirates or Davy Jones had been.

“Ah, I ask for forgiveness. Introductions are in order, I guess.” The person with the soft voice seemed untouched. “It's my first time since Atlantis to talk with a human. I am Atlantic.” The androgynous face was moved by a smile.

James blinked surprised. Had Mister Mercer actually shot him and he was hallucinating close to his death that he saw such miraculous figures.

The person combed nervously through their dark hair that fell into their androgynous face that didn't belong to any ethnicity James had encountered before. Maybe something Spanish or Native American. The clothes on the other hand were the typical mixture found on pirates, except they were too clean. If this was the angel, carrying his soul into heaven, James doubted his belonging there.

“Do you hesitate now to stab the heart?” Honest curiosity was shown on the young and yet ageless face.

James frowned. “Why would I not? Who are you anyway?”

“I am Atlantic, one of the seven Lords of the Sea. I think you already heard of my sibling the Caribbean. She likes to go by Calypso.” The person left their place at the door – James could now notice that they had the bluest eyes imaginable, ever changing in shades of blue just like the Atlantic – and stepped up to James. James tumbled a step back towards the chest in his back when the person – he was still unsure whether they were a woman or a man – extended their hand towards him. “You know, James Lancelot Norrington, who loves the sea as much as his honour, a lot of stories exist about the heart you are about to stab. The sailors on my waters all tell them in different ways but it's always the same story and it's true.” The person smiled and took another step forwards. They put their hand on James' chest right above his heart that was still thumping wildly. “Davy Jones fell in love with a woman, so lively and ever-changing as the sea, a woman that bestowed him with one duty. To bring the lives of those who died at sea into the underworld. Ten years at sea, one day ashore with the one who truly loves him. Ten years he carried the burden in the service of Death and when the time came and they could see each other again, she was gone. This treason wounded him so badly that he could no longer bear the traitorous heart in his chest that still loved the woman and the sea.” Fingers clawed into his uniform jacket, the grip surprisingly strong for such a fragile looking person. “So he carved it out and put it into a chest to hide it on land far away from the sea and its waves. And he cast a geis on the heart and the chest so that whoever would stab the heart would have to take his place. The _Dutchman_ has a duty to fulfil and the _Dutchman_ must always have a captain. But you know that, don't you, James Lancelot Norrington? He, who stabs the heart, must give his own and sail the seven seas for eternity to help those lost souls into the underworld.” The person – Atlantic in human form? – came closer, their hand still on James' heart. “Help! Where am I? Help me, please! My child, my child!”, they whispered intensely. “That's what you will hear. Forever. Everywhere. Those are the souls, Davy Jones abandoned. Are you ready for that?” The blue eyes looked at him with such intensity that James had to look away.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, their hand still on his heart and the sword and key heavy in his hands. “I understand.” He straightened his posture and looked back to Atlantic. “But I have committed a great evil and this is my chance to righten it.”

Atlantic smiled again. This time it was warm. “Well, if it is like that … I like you more than Davy Jones.” A quiet sigh. “And take this.” Atlantic took a richly decorated, antique looking dagger from their clothes and gave it to James. “It's one of few creations that survived the destruction of Atlantis. It is my present to you. I am a little weak to men of honour such as you who are able to see their faults and are willing to bring the greatest sacrifice.”

Deeply moved, James took the dagger after sheathing his sword. It wasn't just crafted with beauty in mind. The blade was exceptionally sharp and thin. Even if he doubted the identity of this person whom he turned his back to again or the existence of Atlantis, this was still a beautifully crafted dagger in his left hand. The fingers holding the key didn't tremble any longer. He was sure that he did the right thing.

He had delivered Davy Jones into Beckett's hands and it would be him to take this trump card from Beckett again.

The chest opened after a slight turn of the key inside the lock to show it's beating content. James raised the dagger, gripped it with both hands and let it come down in swift motion. This was his redemption.

A shrill scream from deck when the heart made its last thump. Still the dagger in hand, James turned around to ask Atlantic how he should proceed. Did he have to cut out his heart himself just like Davy Jones did in the legends? But Atlantic was gone, the dagger the only reminder that they had been here.

Suddenly, the crew of Davy Jones started to fill the cabin. Their eyes were set on James and the dagger in his hand. “Part of the ship, part of the crew, James. Now there is no turning back”, the gentle voice of Atlantic whispered in canon with the crew, intense and yet as soft as a breeze on the open ocean.

“Part of the ship, part of the crew”, James repeated and looked into the faces of Jones' cursed crew.

One of them, the first mate probably, stepped forward. He gave the dagger to the man with the hammerhead shark's head, ready for everything. James didn't close his eyes, still looked without hesitation at the men that were going to be his crew soon. He saw the dagger speed toward him, a silver flash going for his chest.

The world exploded in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atlantic is an OC belonging to the Weltenbrand-Universe and they are non-binary, absolutely nice and in love with a certain druid that is introduced there. There will be a few more OCs from Weltenbrand (German for burning world, part of the Ragnarök) here but they won't have too much of an impact, I guess. Ok, one of them has.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

James woke up with a groan. For a short moment, he was sure that he was back in the dens of Tortuga – sober. His head sure felt like it and he had even dreamt of a person saying that they were the embodiment of the Atlantic and there had been something about stabbing the heart of Davy Jones. Suppressing a string of curses, James sat up to notice that he was not in the dens of Tortuga. He felt the rolling of the waves and the ship.

“Welcome to the _Flying Dutchman_ , Captain Norrington”, one of the persons standing around him said. He had a boarding axe in one hand and the Atlantian dagger in the other. James' blood still clung to it.

A hand searched his chest for where his heart should be beating. Instead he only found the bulge of a fresh scar. Groaning, James got up completely, slowly realizing that he hadn't dreamt it all. He had stabbed the heart of Davy Jones and put his own in its place. James decided not to think about why there were humans and not strange fishmen in the cabin with him. That could wait for another time.

“What are your orders, Captain?”

“How long since … ?” He didn't have to finish his question. They all knew what he meant. Since his death. Did he even count as dead? After all, his heart was still beating albeit outside of his body. He could feel it right there in the chest one of the sailors carried.

“Just a few minutes, Captain”, one of the crew answered. The face looked vaguely familiar to James.

“Good, good”, he said to himself while he still tried to wrap his head around the fact that he was now the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. He tried to sort through all the new information in his mind. He not only was the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ , he could feel her. “You”, he pointed to the sailor with the chest containing his heart, “come with me. We're going to free the prisoners. The rest of you, gather all the soldiers on deck. No unnecessary violence, gentlemen. Take their weapons but don't kill them.” One of the sailors snorted derisively but James couldn't pick him out in the mass of the crew. “Is there a problem with my orders?” He put all the authority of a former commodore and admiral into his voice.

“No, Sir, captain, Sir”, a part of the crew murmured. James would have to keep an eye on them.

“I am not Davy Jones. Those who have a problem with that, can clear this up later. First, we clean this ship from the East India Trading Company.” This time the answer was more enthusiastic. He ignored all the quiet voices in his head, screaming, yelling that they had lost their way, that they needed help. As Captain of the _Dutchman_ they were his responsibility but for the time being there were more pressing matters to attend to with the living.

 

Elizabeth looked at him puzzled when he opened the door to her cell with a sailor by his side – Palifico was his name and he was the one holding his chest. James would not allow his heart to fall in the hands of the East India Trading Company. He had needed Lord Beckett to realize it but the _Dutchman_ should never follow any other command than that of her captain, ferrying souls to the other side. James intended to fulfil this duty and make sure that the _Dutchman_ would never again fall into mortal hands. He pushed away the uneasiness of not thinking of himself as mortal any longer.

“You can go”, he broke the silence. Elizabeth still hadn't moved from her place and all her crew mates eyed him with suspicion but also blatantly curious. “Why do you hesitate?”

“Captain”, Palifico urged, “the men have finished and are awaiting further orders.”

Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise as she caught up. “Captain?”, she whispered. “James, you -?”

“I chose a side”, he interrupted her before she could speak it out loud. For a moment, the voices of the dead were louder than his own thoughts and he needed some time to push them back again. “Be careful. Lord Beckett knows of the Brethren and Shipwreck Cove. I fear, there is a traitor among them.”

The crew exchanged looks in an unspoken agreement.

“And what about you?” Carefully, hesitant, Elizabeth took a step towards him.

“I have a duty to fulfil.” He lowered his gaze. “Take the _Empress_ , get her ready and if you are willing to wait just a bit, you can have some East India Trading Company members as prisoners.”

The sailors of Elizabeth's crew exchanged a few words in a mix of languages that James could not understand. He noticed a few Chinese words but knew none of them. Suddenly, they switched to English. “ - and if he's lying, we're dead anyway.” Elizabeth didn't seem to hear that part and James was left to wonder if he really had heard those words.

“Thank you, James.” Before he could elude Elizabeth, she had hugged and kissed him. Her men finally left the cell.

“Captain”, Palifico spoke up again, urging James a bit more.

“Go, Elizabeth”, James turned to the woman he had loved. He still loved her but in a much more calm manner that allowed him to step aside. Elizabeth needed a man like Will Turner at her side, rash and adventurous and giving up everything for saving her. By now, these thoughts didn't hurt as much as a few months ago when Elizabeth broke off their engagement. Calmly, James loosened her arms around his neck and turned to the sailor guarding his heart. “Palifico, we can go.”

 

Elizabeth and Palifico followed James onto the deck. While Elizabeth went to her crew and climbed along the ropes to the _Empress_ , James took in the situation aboard the _Dutchman_. His crew seemed to have followed his orders. He could see some wounded but no one was dead. Somehow he knew that he would sense it, would there be deceased in the waters around the _Dutchman_.

James could feel the eyes of the soldiers circling between himself, his chest and the chest in Palifico's hands. A surprised gasp now and then told him that the soldiers started to understand. He coughed. Behind him Palifico took a deep breath to shout an order – possibly that they should listen to James – but James stopped him. It was dead silent anyway. The only sounds were coming from the waves sloshing against the _Dutchman's_ planks, a few yelled commands on board of the _Empress_ and the quiet beating of his heart. “There has been a change in captains. The _Flying Dutchman_ is now under my command.” James crossed his arms behind his back just like he had done as a Commodore. The posture was familiar and gave him some semblance of security. “Those who are loyal to Lord Beckett and the East India Trading Company, take the plank. I'm sure the crew of the _Empress_ will take care of you. Men!” On his command, the plank was laid out and one soldier after the other took off his boots, belt and hat. It wasn't a far distance to swim but still far easier if the leather didn't weigh them down on the waist. Some of them murmured a quiet “traitor” before they jumped. “Those who want to return to the Navy can take the ropes.” He bit his lips. He'd nearly slipped into familiarity again and that was not befitting her social status to call her Elizabeth in front of simple soldiers. “Captain Swann will take you to the next harbour.”

“Sir?”, one of the sailors asked warily. James didn't know his name. The time in Beckett's service hadn't been long enough to get to know all of them as he usually liked to do.

“Captain Swann will heed my wish”, James answered with fervour. She might have turned to piracy but she was still a lady with manners. She wouldn't deny him such a simple request.

That seemed to be enough to calm the other soldiers and sailors. Just like Elizabeth's crew before they climbed along the ropes towards the _Empress_. He didn't hear any shots so Elizabeth must have understood his words and would bring them ashore. That had been taken care of. Now – He stopped himself.

“Mister Mullroy, Mister Murtogg, what are you waiting for?”, he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Sir, with your permission”, Mister Murtogg started warily. “We would rather stay under your command.” James raised one eyebrow expectantly. “It's just, Sir, with all respect towards the navy of His Majesty, we always served you first because you were the finest commander we've ever had.”

Surprised by their honesty, James was at a loss for words. He knew that he could take Mullroy and Murtogg into his service if he so desired. 

One of the crew snorted derisively. Without Elizabeth or other strangers – apart from Mullroy and Murtogg – James turned on his heel. He could just as well start disciplining this crew now. “Any objections?” He took great care to make his voice sound as cold as possible – even he thought for a moment to feel a drop in temperature and he couldn't exactly deny its existence in this new, paranormal unlife.

“Aye”, one of the sailors took a step forwards. James admitted that his looks alone made him hesitate in doubts. “Those two land lubbers are to sail with us?” Even the voice made James think of a scoundrel of the first order and the next words sounded like mutiny. “Do we all have to bow and kneel so that the Admiral feels good? Do the navy guys get a lax service because the scourge of the Caribbean has no heart for us pirate pack?” The sailor stepped further and further up to James and was now only two feet away.

“Your name, sailor”, he ordered. For a moment he wished that his heart was with him but a single glance to Palifico confirmed what he felt. Palifico wouldn't mutiny against him. James didn't know how he had earned his loyalty but he was glad for it.

The sailor's eyes issued a challenge that was less intimidating because he had to look up. “Clanker.” He bowed down ridiculously low and made a face. “That's what those high and mighty pricks all do, right?”

“No”, James answered without any emotion in his face. Inwardly, however, he tried to think of a solution without losing his authority and at the same time not further building up his image as a pirate killer and exactly now the voices of the dead started to call louder again. “Instead of lost manners you should better try to remember that I am not Davy Jones, Mister Clanker. I do possess a sense of honour and a set of manners.” James took a step forward to now stand directly in front of the sailor. He bowed down just enough to still keep Clanker clearly visible in his eyes. “If you don't trust my word in this matter, you are free to quit your service.” Another inch forward. “And down with you into the abyss. Think about it, Mister Clanker.”

During this discussion the _Empress_ had loosened the ropes tying her to the _Dutchman_ , collected some of the soldiers loyal to Beckett and didn't seem to have thrown the soldiers loyal to the Navy over board. Down in the water, he could hear the splashing of the last soldiers that tried to save themselves onto the _Empress_. Chains were waiting for them there but it was better than the miserable death by drowning. “Captain Norrington!”, Elizabeth yelled when the _Empress_ lay sidelong with the _Dutchman_ and yelled as though she had made a good joke. “Put them ashore when we next reach port?”

“Aye, Captain Swann, if it's no problem for you.” James tried for a polite tone that was completely undermined by the fact that he had to yell.

“Next port is Shipwreck Cove!” Elizabeth grinned even broader. “No worries. We won't kill them. Probably.”

James nodded. “I value your consideration.” Directed towards Murtogg and Mullroy he added: “Mister Mullroy, Mister Murtogg, last chance. Service aboard the _Dutchman_ is rough. Ten years on sea, one day ashore and only the dead as company. Do you really want this?”

Neither Murtogg nor Mullroy got the chance to answer him as a sudden uproar started in James' back. Clanker, that he felt. He wanted the chest that was still guarded by Palifico. James didn't have to think when he drew the dagger that had carved out his heart from the belt. In a fluent motion he threw it and the pained scream told him that he had hit. He'd only gone for the hand that had been greedily extended towards the chest. “I accept this as your resignation, Mister Clanker.” It was frightenly easy to lift the oath of the former pirate that kept him alive aboard the _Dutchman_. He could feel the last breath that left his body just before the soul left and clung itself to James. Carefully, he took it and put it … somewhere. He knew no words for it. “Mister Mullroy, Mister Murtogg, time is up”, he returned to the two soldier whose answer had been interrupted by Clanker.

Mister Mullroy straightened himself up involuntarily as James' attention concentrated completely on him. It was near comical. “Our decision had been made when we helped you, Sir.” James knew exactly what he was talking about. Mister Mercer and his unfortunate acquaintance with the barrel of a bayonet.

“Then welcome to the _Flying Dutchman_ , Mister Mullroy, Mister Murtogg.” James tried for a smile while the voices where screaming. _Help! Save us! My child, my child!_ How had Davy Jones been able to bear hearing these desperate voices and do nothing?

“Captain?”, Palifico spoke up. “I'd suggest we move to a more private place.” His gaze moved to the _Empress_. “Some things are not meant for the ears or eyes of mortals.”

James nodded silently. In front of his mind's eye he saw the perfect place. An island, not of this world, surrounded by fog and silent waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Build-up chapter or something like that. The next one will include a bit more fun. Or well, I think it's fun. Lots of Dutchman-stuff, James, the crew and the master of a certain island.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of world building because we get to little about the workings aboard the _Dutchman_ and I really want to establish a bit of that already. Also, one very easy-going immortal with a secret stash of rum, whiskey and whisky.

### Chapter 3

It hadn't been difficult to navigate the _Dutchman_ where he had wanted it to be. He couldn't describe it any different than it being an instinctive knowledge how to set course. He just knew – not that he liked it. It went against the rationality of mind that he preferred. Of course, it confused him but he couldn't think about it further now. Decisions had to be made. James was just glad that the _Dutchman_ \- now bopping up and down in the waters surrounding the fog island – had lost all the ornaments of Davy Jones when James first had taken the wheel.

“Lo and behold!”, a female voice clamoured – smokey and low – but without any doubt a female voice. “Wouldn't have guessed that the _Dutchman_ would ever grace my island again.”

The misty shrouds receded to reveal the silhouette of a woman that seemed to come from another age. She was standing close very close to the _Dutchman_ on the beach, close enough that James could muster her in great detail.

Her plain, white dress was only held on the left shoulder with a golden brooch and at the waist with a filigree golden girdle. Even the bare arms bore gold ornaments. The long, nearly white hair was braided in a long forgotten fashion and in every strand of hair were pearls of every colour. James was so entranced by her look that he needed some time to notice that her hair had been done in this manner to hide an empty eye socket. The left eye however, green as fresh leaves, was expressive enough for more than one person.

“Mylady.” Manners took over and James bowed down appropriately. He couldn't be sure however, as neither his standing nor that of the lady was clearly defined. “With whom do I have the pleasure?”

“Not so courtly, Captain.” The lady laughed deeply. “I'm only a simple weapon smith on an island between worlds. Welcome to Avalon.” Still laughing the lady turned their back to them and disappeared into the fog.

“Did she just say Avalon?”, he heard Mullroy whisper. Murtogg answered quieter still.

But those two weren't the ones he should worry about now. He had to get to know the rest of the crew to learn who would stay under his command and who would rather die – literally.

James was just about to shut the chattering sailors up when Palifico took care of that for him. “Silence! Enough of the chit-chat you bunch of sissy blabbermouths!”

“Gentlemen.” Again James folded his hands behind his back while he tried to look at every sailor while speaking. It was a form of respect that he didn't wish to give up together with his commission. “You should have noticed by now that I intend to be a different kind of captain than Davy Jones was. This ship has a duty and I fully intend to fulfil said duty. No more piracy, no more murders nor arson. Those who are discontent with this are free to go and rest in peace. Your decision, gentleman. Service under my command or death.”

“Bah”, one of the sailors huffed in derision. “Rather on the ground of the sea until Judgement Day than be a sissy.”

“I'm with Morey.” Another sailor stepped forward next to the man he had called Morey. “Death is better if the other choice is serving a lackey of the Navy. Damn British pussies.” He spat out.

“Don't be an idiot, Ratlin.” The first mate, the one who had cut out James' heart, interrupted. He was the only one in the crew who was even taller than James and he was undoubtedly even more muscular. “Back to your station.”

James wanted to intervene now himself. He didn't want anyone under his command who wasn't alright with his authority and he understood too well why most pirates wouldn't spend any more time than necessary in his company.

“Shut it, Maccus”, the one called Ratlin answered. “You might have forgotten all your pride as a pirate but I'd rather die than lick the boots of a Navy dog.”

“Leave him, First Mate”, James ordered calmly. “I don't want anyone on board who's unwilling to follow my orders.” James lifted their – Ratlin's and Morey's – oath to the _Dutchman_ and took their souls just like Clanker's. He had the insubstantial feeling that it wouldn't be good to lose their souls in this place that was neither here nor there, a place beyond time, a pure legend shrouded in mist and fog.

 

Palifico wanted to stay on the _Dutchman_. In the ship's hierarchy he seemed to be in a position just second to James and seemed to think of himself as some kind of bodyguard or retainer to the captain. Practically, that translated to Palifico guarding the chest with James' heart.

Until his death he had been a buccaneer for the Spanish before becoming a part of Davy Jones' crew and although he still was a pirate in every sense of the word, he seemed to follow a code of honour that James could identify with.

“And you are still in service aboard the _Dutchman_ although your service should have ended ten years ago?”, James asked in confusion. He knew that Davy Jones had bent the rules – that James couldn't put in words but he knew them deep inside – but even Jones had been bound by his word. 

“Aye, lost a lot of games.” Palifico shrugged his shoulders.

“Games?” James tried to not show his disbelief too openly.

“We bet years, Captain. It was the only thing we had.”

James buried his face in his hands. He knew, he just knew that it was wrong. Allowing them hundred years in service was alright but making them bet years back and forth? “Is there a way to announce these bets worth nothing?” He didn't even want to imagine what kind of bureaucratic nightmare the games and bets had made out of the rules.

“Captain … do you really want to take the last thing the men can bet? We are dead, what do we care for money or other material stuff?” 

He'd feared this kind of argument but he'd thought that it would come. With a suppressed groan he massaged the bridge of his nose. “What about shore leave? You look like people now, so that would be possible, wouldn't it? Or … rum rations?” He would prefer his men to stay sober but then... most of his men had been pirates before dying. They would really love the rum.

Palifico seemed to entertain the thought at least. “Shore leave without whores isn't that exciting for the men”, he answered then. “Unless you know a way to make our bodies warmer than sea water, Captain?” James had to negate. He hadn't thought about that. “And concerning the rum... Under the command of Davy Jones everything tasted like salt water. Even the rum.” Palifico's thin lips formed a smile. “Permission to test if that has changed?”

James left Palifico and Maccus, the tall, muscular first mate to testing their theory. Both men really liked the idea of playing for rum instead of years, especially because the rum tasted like rum now – they still wanted to test this subject further. James' theory that the cursed appearance of the crew was bound to the sense of duty of their captain seemed to fit.

All the while James had been told by Penrod and Angler that he had dismissed his third mate with Ratlin. Penrod, the second mate, and Angler, now the third mate, preferred to end their service by the book. Penrod had hinted to there being souls in the afterlife that he'd rather not meet too soon.

 

 

The boatswain Jimmy Legs had gone by himself when he heard of James' ideas to keep up the moral and discipline on the ship. James didn't think highly of people who whipped their crew to the bones – not even if said crew was dead. The now tasty rum was a good method to keep his crew in line. Palifico had been right. There wasn't much more the dead of the _Dutchman_ could enjoy besides shore leave and rum.

The navigators Koleniko and Greenbeard tended to argue with each other a lot, James noticed after a few minutes into his talk with them. Both were good men, able to find their course but they had vastly differing ideas on which course was best. Inwardly, James wished for his lieutenants Groves and Gillette to return to him. Those two could also bicker like a married couple but at least they could agree on a course unless James picked one himself.  
Slowly, James came to the conclusion that he would have to massage his temples a lot more if the rest of the crew was even rudimentarily similar to the ones he had met so far.

Ogilvey had only introduced himself shortly to James as the main gunner of the crew and then gone off to help Palifico and Maccus test their theory. James spontaneously decided that they would be allowed to drown their sorrows in rum today. He would get them sober tomorrow. Somehow.  
Ogilvey himself looked like a man of forty years but he had said that he had been serving on the _Dutchman_ for some time and that he missed his wife and children who were most likely dead by now. James couldn't find any fault in him for trying to forget this for just one day and he tried to repress the thought that he could be in the same position hadn't Elizabeth broken the engagement and decided for Will Turner.

 

William Turner's father, also William turner by name, appeared at James' side with an older pirate who sat down comfortably. “Captain, this is Wyvern.” The old pirate nodded. “He'd beed fused with the shop for a while and forgot how to speak but everyone knows that he served his years.”

“Aye, that he did”, another pirate said, his years clearly visible on his bent back. “He was part of Jones' original crew just like I was. We've come aboard as boys before he'd gone off madly in love with that unholy woman.” The pirate spit over his shoulder thrice to keep away bad luck.

“Then go. Rest in peace.”

“Aye, captain. Aye. That we will.”

 

 

Exhausted, James let himself fall onto the afterdeck. The crew enjoyed their shore leave, yelled and drank and had a literal celebration on the beach of Avalon. As the lady hadn't come back, James assumed that they didn't break any unwritten laws while celebrating. He didn't begrudge them the fun they had. The next day would be harsh enough.

He had dismissed a few more sailors. Urchin with the hooked nose. Quittance with his passion for gambling – and cheating. Xiao Fong who had a problem with James as a person. He could go on for a while. At least he had kept enough men to keep the _Dutchman_ manoeuvrable and even more or less clear for action though he couldn't find the indefinable feeling that he could just make the _Dutchman_ do what he wanted without any crew.

“All alone, Captain?” James was ready to attack before he could even recognize the voice as belonging to the lady of Avalon. “Nice sword. May I?” Without hesitation he handed the sword – that had been forged in another lifetime by William turner as it seemed – to the lady. She took a few swings, tested its balance, looked at the intrinsic work of the hilt and smiled. “It's a good sword. I would have forged one for the ferryman of the sea but it seems this is no longer necessary as this is good work. And - “ She stopped herself, her gaze on James' belt. “Is that an Atlantean dagger? Where did you get that?”

James drew the dagger and handed it to her as well. “It was given to me before I died by a person who called itself a lord of the sea. Atlantic.”

One raised eyebrow. “Now, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time. Is Atlantic still unable to fit into human society?” The lady weighed the dagger in her hand and didn't seem to expect an answer. “If you really got this dagger from Atlantic, I won't say anything against it. I fear, however, that your master won't be happy with an Atlantean memento.” With a sigh, she gave dagger and sword back to James.

“My master?”

“Death.” The lady smiled as though the answer was obvious. “He bears many names but it is him you serve, Captain. Long ago on Atlantis they called him the lord of everything beneath. The underworld, the deep sea. All of that. Then he destroyed Atlantis down to the ground of the sea but that's a different story.” Her smile grew said as though she was remembering long gone times and persons she dearly missed. “I can't say that Death hadn't been given no reasons to lay waste and ashes to Atlantis. Well, mostly waste if you get my meaning.”

“Take the dagger.” James held it to her again. “It's a beautiful piece of work and it's not safe with me. It seems right to leave it here with you, Mylady.” James couldn't explain where the feeling stemmed from.

The smile of the lady grew even sadder. “Kelephas. Not Mylady. And, of course, the dagger fits with me. I forged it a long time ago. Now I'm also just a relic of times long forgotten.” She shook her head so that the strands of pearls clinked at each other and her smile returned to cheerfulness. “Do you want to keep me company this evening on my island, Captain Norrington?” He hesitated for a moment and she seemed to misinterpret that hesitation. “Don't worry. Avalon is not a real place. Your one day ashore is not spent here. And you could really use a bath.”

It was the first time since, well, his death that James took note of his appearance. His admiral's jacket was stained with his own blood, just as the gold-embroidered frock-coat and the formerly white tunic that now showed his chest and the wide scar on it. “I think a bath alone won't be enough”, he answered with a hint of humour in his voice.

 

James ignored the whistles and laughter when he left the _Dutchman_ with the lady Kelephas on his arm. She only smiled and even winked at one or two of his crew. “You know, I think I will take your first mate and his company with the split lip into my quarter. If you haven't got a problem with that. Wouldn't be bad for their spirits at least.” Her smile turned into a grin while James fought for an answer. “The last time I had at least nearly human company was at the time when Davy Jones had just been new to his duty. You start to miss things in time.” That was the point where James decided to not further talk about it. Most certainly not. The lady Kelephas that acted less and less like a lady laughed heartily and seemed to be able to go without an answer.

She led him farther into the heart of the island where the fogs drank the last blood red light of the descending sun. They walked past a wellspring with a stone and a bowl. “Fountain of Youth Eternal. Aqua de Vida”, Kelephas commented when she noticed his gaze. “Those who drink from it, make themselves a part of this place and are unable to die in the world of the living because Death can't walk this earth.” She snorted. “Not that you or me would need it, right, Captain?”

“James Lancelot Norrington”, he interrupted her. At first, he had thought that she knew his name just as Atlantic had known but since she only called him captain maybe she didn't.

“Lancelot?” A quiet laugh fled from her lips. “Now that's an ironic name. A Lancelot on Avalon.” Involuntarily, James also had to smile. She was right. The name did possess a certain irony. “And since you didn't react to my flirting even once, Captain Norrington, I guess there's also a lot of unrequited love involved?” The fact that James didn't answer seemed to be answer enough for her because she laughed quietly again and then lead him further inland.

 

“You can wash yourself here, Captain. My luxury on this island. Hot springs. Just let me have a short look around as to whether I have a fitting tunic and coat for you because those blood stains won't vanish.” Kelephas vanished in the mists surrounding the hot spring and left James behind.

He had to admit that the prospect of a hot bath was tempting considering that he would have to face the war again tomorrow that he had started in the first place. He also knew with surprising clarity that the hot water wouldn't alleviate the tension inside of him. To him it was only water, neither hot nor cold. Admittedly, it was water on a magical island but still only water. Its temperature had no more meaning for James. Temperature in itself had become null and void to him although it had taken him an hour or two to notice it.

However, he still got rid of the wig and the tricorne that he had only worn out of habit. He wasn't an admiral any longer. He had become nothing more than a very real horror story for pirates. His bloody admiral's jacket and the stained tunic followed the wig. Properly folded they lay in the damp grass. For a moment he considered taking off all his clothes despite the presence of a lady on this island until he reminded himself that Kelephas didn't seem to like being treated like a lady and would insist on being just a friend. He still had to fight himself to let himself slide into the welcome water of the hot spring.

A lowly hummed melody ripped him out of his thoughts. Kelephas had returned and had a tunic and a coat in her hands as far as he could see. “Now, Captain, if you weren't completely unwilling, I'd fuck you right now. That's a really good looking body”, she mentioned with delight and made James regret to have accepted the invitation to a bath. Completely ignoring James' unease, she held the coat and tunic in front of her as though she had to check on James' measurements again. “Yes, that should fit nicely. I've sown it a few years ago when I needed a break from forging but usually I really prefer my metal.” She put the coat and tunic down next to James' other clothing. “Permission to join you, Captain?”, she asked with a teasing shimmer in her eyes.

James only nodded. Kelephas didn't seem to care for any form of manners and even less about the rules concerning … physical presentation. James tried not to look in her direction as far as possible.

“It's not forbidden to have a look, Captain.” Again with the teasing that was supposed to challenge him into answering. “With time the old rules about nudity lose their importance. Humans always change their opinions on it all the time anyway.” She sighed in contentment as she slid deeper into the water. “You know, James … is it alright if I address you a bit more intimately?”

“We are both naked in the same hot spring. I think in this case we can break with protocol”, he answered, his eyes still close while he fought against the voices in the back of his head.

“Good. James. It's not my first time doing this although I doubt that Davy Jones followed even one of my suggestions.” A sigh and the quiet splashing of water. “You've landed yourself in the unrewarding position of standing between the Sea and Death. The sea is your life. Something like that at least. There's a lot of magical theory about it and the English language doesn't have fitting words for it.” She paused. “Actually, I think I need some rum for this.” Discontent she clicked her tongue. “You should have noticed by now that your body has the temperature of sea water. You are obviously colder than the living ashore and if you don't want to make them collapse from terror you should try to mask your otherness a bit.”

Now James listened very attentively. Since his heart was resting in the chest, he had gained a lot of new knowledge but nothing was useful to interact with the living. That was nothing he had to know to fulfil his duties. “And how do I do that?”

“You're already doing it. At least a bit.” James opened his eyes now to look at her gesturing that he had felt through soft breezes. At the moment she was pointing at the hot spring. “The hot water can warm you. Only for a while but if you heat up within your core it the warmth should stay for a few hours.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Only works with hot water, though, not with fire or something like that. I guess that's what they call the cold breath of Death.” She laughed at her own joke and even James had to smile although he hid it fast again beneath his mask of protocol and authority. “Maybe you can try to make your body take the temperature of different sea water. Should try the Bahamas. You'd still be colder than a human but at least not a scold as now.”

“I appreciate your advice, Lady Kelephas.” James had already spoken the words before he could remind himself that Kelephas didn't want to be called a lady.

She only laughed, though. “Now I get what Atlantic finds in you. Men of honour and decency...” Kelephas continued to laugh and James let her do it. He rather continued to relax a bit in the water and felt the warmth creep into his bones right into the place where his heart had been a few hours ago.

For a while they just sat there in content silence. “So, Kelephas, you know about the _Dutchman_?” At least it seemed like that and maybe she could answer a few of his questions.

“A bit.” Kelephas suddenly moved away from her place and seemed to search for something at the shore of the spring. With a triumphant smile she turned around, a bottle in hand. “Grow as old as I have and you will have heard a few things. You'll also have a few interesting things lying around. Interested in fifty years old whisky?”

James thought about it for a moment. His crew was able to consume massive amounts of rum without problem, so he could at least try the whisky. It should be a good one, nothing someone in his position would usually get to drink. “I think it is worth a try.”

“Then bottoms up.” Kelephas handed the bottle to him and a glance on its label showed him that it was even older than Kelephas had said. Cut off from the world her sense of time seemed to be distorted. James opened the bottle and enjoyed the sharp, smoky smell of whisky in his nose. Definitely better than the rum his crew as drinking. “What did you want to ask?”

James took a small swig to test it and put down the bottle in disappointment. “It tastes like nothing.”

“Then give it back, you wastrel”, Kelephas grabbed the bottle. James hurriedly looked away when one of her breasts was breaching the milky water surface. A quiet splashing and the sound of greedy sips. “Much better. Burns just through. Too bad you can't taste it. So, what did you want to know?”

“My crew is human and the _Duchtman_ is … “He made a vague gesture with his hands. “She doesn't look any longer like she's been on the bottom of the ocean for centuries.”

“Ah that”, Kelephas waved dismissively. “That's bound to you fulfilling the duty. Davy Jones became a tentacle face because he betrayed his duty and therefore himself. I banished him from Avalon when he came here like that and haven't seen him since.” She shrugged her shoulders and took another swig from the bottle with relish. “Then you stabbed the heart and put your own in its place. As long as you fulfil your duty, everything's fine. If not … then you end up just like Jones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I took all of the names from the potc-wikia but it's been some time so there are maybe one or two OCs there.  
> And, yes, I gave James that middle name for the comedic effect. Sue me.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if there are glaring mistakes in this chapter. I've been translating a lot the last few days and became a bit blind towards most mistakes I usually make. If you want to point out some to me, feel free to do so. Otherwise I will probably look through it all again once I've translated the whole work - which will take some more time. Like, 28 more chapters or so.

### Chapter 4

The _Dutchman_ reappeared in Shipwreck Bay. James wasn't sure whether he would ever get used to travel under water, just from one place to the next as though it was normal that he did not suffocate. Considering the calm faces of his crew, he guessed that you got used to it after some time.

The city Shipwreck looked according to its own name, james thought after gazing at the cluster of wreck and wreck parts. Everywhere there were lights and he could hear shots. At the docks he could see the _Empress_. So Elizabeth was already here. He recognized the _Black Pearl_ , how could he not?

With the whispers of Atlantic in his ear, he left the _Dutchman_ and got ready for his first day ashore. He had to negotiate with the pirate lords themselves. They would not accept a substitute – and James still had a certain image among the pirates. Sacrificing his one day ashore for the next ten years did not lighten his mood but maybe that would make the pirate lords more compliant. He doubted it, though.

He climbed the heap of wrecks up to the place where he could feel the things binding Calypso to her human form – they were somehow tied to his new senses as Captain of the _Dutchman_. The ground felt wrong beneath his feet. He missed the rolling and swaying of the _Dutchman_ , the beating of the waves against the planks and the wind in the sails. This feeling wasn't foreign to him but it had never been this strong, had never set on so fast.

Admittedly, James wasn't surprised when he found the meeting of the Brethren dissolved into unholy chaos – they were talking about cutting out tongues and silencing people. Even with such nice titles as lord on their wanted-posters, they still were pirates and pirates were prone to a certain lack of discipline and unity as long as the navy wasn't present to unify them and even then they tended to betray each other.

The argument quieted down as soon as the first person noticed his presence. Of course, it had been Sparrow. Everyone else had been focussed on Sparrow because he had spouted another one of his elaborate speeches. The nearly girlish yell of surprise that Sparrow produced upon seeing James nearly made the day ashore worth it. It wasn't enough to satisfy his thirst for justice after serving on the _Black Pearl_. There was still a lot to do about that. Later.

James knew exactly what kind of impression he left on the assembled persons. Elizabeth graced him with a nearly innocent smile. So she hadn't told them that Davy Jones was dead and James now Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. A small smile was the only sign for her but she knew him good enough, long enough to understand what he said her with this smile. The rest, exempt Sparrow, only saw a pirate captain with a stolen tricorne, a black coat, a uniform resembling that of the navy and the imposing manner of a former ranking officer. "Good evening, gentlemen, ladies." He bowed slightly in front of Elizabeth and the Chinese pirate mistress Ching. They might be pirates but James still was a man of manners.

Jack Sparrow – Captain! - stuttered a few words and flailed wildly in the air before he was able to form a coherent sentence. "What are _you_ doing here?"

It was Elizabeth who took a step away from Barbossa and towards James. "Captain James Norrington of the _Flying Dutchman_ ", she announced him. An unnatural silence fell on the meeting of the Brethren. Half a minute later the assembly exploded in noise and fervent attempts to get away from him. "Silence!", Elizabeth tried to get them to listen to her but her voice was completely drowned.

James breathed deeply in and out although he didn't need the air any longer. It calmed him down before he stepped up to the table where the lords sat – or had sat. Some of them were trying to run. "I didn't come here to hear your screaming and squabbling", he started calmly. Nobody dared to move. "I am here to support you in the battle against Lord Beckett and the East India Trading Company." A pause with suspicious gazes thrown around. He had them. "Of course, I do expect some compensation."

"And what kind of compensation would that be?", Barbossa asked challenging.

"Free Calypso." He knew the ritual, he knew, what he needed and he knew that he would not be able to do it. He would have to love the sea and he didn't. He respected her, could not live without the sea but he had given his heart to someone else and he could never love the sea in a way that even resembled the feelings he had had for Elizabeth.

Within seconds the assembly was in complete disarray again. It reminded him of Tortuga and James really rather forgot about that place.

"This is absurd”, Elizabeth said in disbelief.

"This is politics”, James answered her at the same time as Sparrow. He was also certain that they both bore the same facial expression and wasn't that a horrifying thought.

 

 

There had been a lot more yelled discussion, a witty battle of words between Sparrow and Barbossa, the election of a pirate king and another loud discussion before they had agreed to James' terms. At dawn the Brethren would be at war with the East India Trading Company. Elizabeth was their king – no one had foreseen that. At dawn they would free Calypso. James hadn't told them that Calypso wouldn't help them. They were in the Atlantic. Calypso held no power here.

He also hadn't told them that it was only Calypso's knowledge of voodoo that kept Barbossa alive. Barbossa would die the moment Calypso would be set free. James felt bad about not telling it but he knew that this information would be enough to cause another uproar, another discussion and he was not willing to spend any more time with these pirates. He also wouldn't risk that they rescinded their decision or rebelled against their king.

"Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ , eh?" Sparrow joined him with a bottle of rum on the balcony where James tried to enjoy some resemblance of silence.

James breathed out audibly. "Spare me your talking, Sparrow." Again he felt the urge to massage his temples. Talking to Sparrow needed so much of his concentration that he now heard the voices of the lost souls clearer again.

He was so concentrated on pushing the voices back that it took him a moment to realize that Sparrow was actually staying silent and not talking. He was drinking the amount he did not talk.

Just like James he stared into the moonlit bay. There was a certain tension in his posture as though he wanted to run any moment, no, as though he was expecting punishment. James frowned. He had never seen Sparrow this way and it made him worry. Although James didn't hold the pirate in too high esteem he knew that it spelled trouble if Jack Sparrow was worried. "What did you do this time, Sparrow?" James couldn't keep the resignation completely out of his voice.

"Aye?", Sparrow jolted out of his seemingly unpleasant thoughts. "Who? How? Where? What? Excuse me, my friend, I was lost in thoughts. What did you say?"

James snorted derisively. "Don't try to act in front of me, Sparrow. You have plans of your own otherwise you wouldn't have given your voice in the assembly to Elizabeth."

"And what kind of plans would that be?" Sparrow came so close that James could smell the rum in his breath. He didn't dare to move back. Sparrow would see it as a sign of weakness and an opening to exploit.

"Plans that involve Will Turner, Sparrow." At first, he hadn't noticed the absence of Elizabeth's fiancée but the meeting had taken long enough that he had noticed that William Turner, the younger one, wasn't there.

"Careful with the evil eye, my friend. Someone could die." Sparrow tried a half smile, then drowned his words in a big sip of rum. "Will wants the _Dutchman_ for himself to free his father." James remembered that fact. That's why they had fought on Isla Cruces. "He thinks the _Dutchman_ is still under the command of Jones and therefore under the command of Beckett", Sparrow continued carefully.

"So you threw Turner into the hands of Beckett", James completed his sentence. He hadn't thought himself still capable of such disgust. "And what's in it for you?" James tried to convey his disgust in his voice as best as he was capable of. He could think of some things that Sparrow could want from Beckett but he wanted to hear it directly from the pirate.

Said pirate needed one, two more sips of rum before he was able to answer. "Now? Nothing, savvy? You destroyed that plan, Captain Norrington." He emphasised his title. Another sip of rum followed. If Sparrow continued in this speed, the bottle would be emptied before James had his answers. “I had a nice, little arrangement with Beckett that neither he nor I intended to keep but this honourable Commodore had to go and stab the heart of Davy Jones and throw off the balance completely.”

“Actually, I was an admiral”, James corrected.

“You've been a better commodore.” Lost in thoughts, Sparrow turned the nearly empty bottle in his hands. He showed a side, James hadn't thought or even imagined to exist. On the other hand … He was talking to Captain Jack Sparrow who was a continuously surprising person. “You even were a pretty good pirate. Good sailor and stealing the heart to buy your life? That was very piraty, aye?” James bit on his lips. He couldn't argue with Sparrow because it was true but it was also something he deeply regretted and rather not thought about. “And now there's Beckett and his armada coming for us, young William is leading them here with my compass and we've lost every basis for negotiation.” Again, Sparrow looked at his bottle, put it on his lips and emptied it with one swallow. “Drink up me hearties, yo-ho.”

James closed his eyes at the familiar phrase. It seemed to have been yesterday when he had last heard Elizabeth sing that particular song. He leaned on the balcony's railing. A soft breeze tugged at his hair and carried the salty smell of the sea to him. “Mister Turner wants to free his father from service on the _Dutchman_?”, James followed up on something Sparrow had said before. “He would ferry his own father into the underworld?”

Sparrow answered with an indefinable sound. “The young William Turner wants to see his father free. Ashore. He betrayed the woman he loves and killed a few people already to reach this goal. If I were you, my friend, I would guard that heart very good.” Patronizingly, Sparrow patted the empty spot on James' chest.

Firmly, James took Sparrow's hand away from his chest. It had been exactly where Atlantic had touched him. “His father is dead. He can't return to the living.” James straightened a bit to put a bit more emphasis on his next words. “What has died, stays dead. That's the rule.”

Sparrow allowed himself a broad grin that made his golden teeth shine. “And sometimes something returns. Barbossa... me shoddy self. You.” The grin vanished as fast as the oncoming storm. “Why not Bootstraps Bill?”

“You know exactly why you live, Sparrow.” James gripped for the braid that was hanging above the fabric that held back his wild hair. The coin glimmered in the moonlight. “Nine pirate lords were necessary to bind Calypso and nine lords are needed to free her. That's the only reason Barbossa and you crossed the threshold twice. I can't return someone to life. You'd need someone with Calypso's abilities and the less said about her voodoo the better.” Being close to Barbossa was enough to make James' skin crawl. The man was far more dead than alive.

“Aye.” Sparrow wanted to take another swallow when he noticed that he had emptied his bottle a while ago. “Shouldn't be surprised that the captain of the _Dutchman_ knows about Barbossa's impending death, should I, my friend? So let's both keep our secrets. Wouldn't want Barbossa to start another mutiny and this time against the darling Miss Elizabeth Swann.” Another grin and Sparrow left James back at a loss for words. Did the pirate just try to blackmail him with Elizabeth? Even if that hadn't been Sparrow's intention, it worked, James had to admit.

 

 

Again, the silence fell far too short and again it wasn't Elizabeth to keep him company but Jack Sparrow. This time he carried two bottles of rum and gave one to James. “Here. Drink up. If you can't spend the one day ashore in the presence of the one you'd rather spend it with,” Sparrow's eyes glanced over to Elizabeth as if by accident, “you can at least have a drink.”

“I don't drink.” Any longer. Tortuga had been enough for a lifetime. Or more than one. At this point James wasn't even sure but he would live or at least exist long enough to get to the bottom of this question. And it would all taste the same to him anyway.

“Such a shame”, Sparrow murmured and opened his bottle with his teeth to immediately take a big gulp. He seemed unable to consume little amounts at a time. “Undead and not even capable of drinking rum to celebrate eternal freedom on the seven seas.”

James massaged the bridge of his nose. “I sincerely doubt that I am undead, Sparrow. I've still got a beating heart.”

“In a chest”, Sparrow added unapologetically. For the first time this day James got the feeling he always got in the presence of Sparrow. Fist of pistol. He suppressed the urge because it wouldn't help and would be undignified as well. “And how high is the threshold of a doubtful undead who maybe is not as undead as the legends make it seem?” Another golden grin after a sentence that should have been impossible with the amount of rum Sparrow had already drunken this evening.

“High, Sparrow, but I don't drink.” James put a bit more emphasis in it this time so that maybe Sparrow might get the message.

Seemingly unfazed Sparrow shrugged his shoulders, placed the second bottle of rum on the railing and gave all his attention to the first. James would bet that the second bottle would fall sooner or later but he had learnt not to take any bets concerning Sparrow. Sparrow's gaze was on the bay where the _Dutchman_ was lying right next to the _Empress_.

“It's a nice ship”, Sparrow broke the silence. “Not as nice as the _Pearl_ but nice.”

“Sparrow”, James suppressed a sigh. “Could you stay silent for just a moment?”

“Aren't the dead taciturn enough?”, Sparrow answered with another question that was too thought through to be spontaneous. Every time the pirate opened his mouth, James was reminded anew that this pirate was more than he seemed. James had made this mistake often enough since their first meeting in Port Royal.

“Not as much as they should.” He closed his eyes to again fully concentrate on pushing back the voices of the lost souls. “After all, they only seek salvation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I'm not saying that James is fulfilling that one part Calypso said but, well... he is.  
> Ten years at sea, one day ashore and he can be with she who truly loves him.  
> Just, it's not a she. It's a he. And they both will need some time to figure that out.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> completely unbeta'd again for which I apologize. I think I'll only get to betaing as soon as I've finished translating it.  
> the good message of the day? I don't think there is one although I might get to translating the next chapter sooner and I've got another plotbunny stewing in my head with James ending up as the captain of the Dutchman and Jack... well, Jack's gonna do his own thing and it's very likely to be Sparrington again.

### Chapter 5

 

Calypso was free, Barbossa dead and it had been the pirate with the wooden eye – another one of the keys to Calypso's binding – who had loved her enough to free her. James had to admit that he hadn't expected that. He had expected, though, that Sparrow would immediately take command over the _Black Pearl_ again. Elizabeth was on board of the _Empress_ to lead the pirate fleet into battle. Watching from the _Dutchman_ James could tell that it looked magnificent how the sails stretched from one end of the horizon to the next.

“Nice fleet”, Atlantic commented that had just appeared out of nothing next to James. “Too bad that it's far inferior to the one of this … Lord Beckett? That was the name, right?” Atlantic frowned. “But we both know that. After all you served him for a while and saw what he has under his command.”

“The Brethren have my support, though”, James answered.

“Why even?”

It took him a moment to understand that Atlantic actually meant his question literally. “They are pirates. They give nothing without taking something in return.” Although, to be honest, it wasn't only pirates that worked that way.

Atlantic hummed in thoughts. “You humans are strange but since Calypso is free now, I am glad.” They snapped their fingers as though they had remembered something important. “I looked at your languages. There's a lot more but they are all so complicated and limited. I liked the language of Atlantis. It was … better. They knew that there was more between heaven and hell than humans, animals and plants. They had words just for us.” Atlantic smiled. “I noticed how you tried to put me in one of your categories. Just think of me as a man. It's as wrong as everything else and it will give the both of us more time to take care of the really important things.”

James nodded his head in thanks. “I beg your pardon. I didn't want to cause any trouble for you.”

Atlantic only laughed. “It's not your fault that your language is so limited and that your society has such … strange ideas.” From one moment to the next Atlantic turned serious again. “Actually I've only come to tell you that I want to return a favour. You helped free Calypso, so if you are in need of my help, I will do all I can. After all, we are seven again, the _Dutchman_ is fulfilling its duty and even Kelephas is less bored.” Suddenly the pirates' battle cries fell silent. Beckett's armada had arrived. “I could sink them all, you know.” Atlantic moved their hand to point towards all the armada's ships that appeared out of the morning fog.

“No!”, James answered immediately. “No”, repeated a bit more calmly. The thought alone made him shudder.

“Oh”, Atlantic smiled as though they had said something without thinking beforehand. “I completely forgot that you would have to collect all their souls then, wouldn't you? Do you have friends there?”

“No. Yes. That's not the problem here.” James breathed in deeply to collect his thoughts. It wasn't appropriate to answer in such stuttering ways. “As far as I know there are friends of mine on the _Endeavour_. My point is, though, that no one should be able to order such a mass murder.”

Atlantic shrugged their shoulders as though they couldn't understand that. Maybe it was exactly that. Maybe for a being like Atlantic the destruction of three hundred ships and their crews was nothing more than killing ants for the gardener. “It's your decision, ferryman, but if you want to try a peaceful solution you should first get them together in a parley? That's the word, isn't it?”

“Yes, that is the word”, James answered with a quiet smile. That might actually work. “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me?”

With a curtsy, Atlantic accepted. “As long as it's not happening on dry land, I'm with you.” Serious again, Atlantic continued: “You know the easiest way to gather the kings? After all, the waves will carry you wherever you want to go.” Atlantic hesitated for a moment. “I've been told, however, that it's easy to lose your sense of direction at first.”

 

Atlantic was right. It was disorienting and he just barely managed to not stumble over his own feet when travelling from the _Dutchman_ to the _Empress_. That would have been very embarrassing. The sword stabbed into his back by Elizabeth's First Mate he just ignored. There were more important things to discuss.

When he changed to the _Endeavour_ , he did not stumble at all. However, it was harder to keep his regal posture when everyone eyed him as a traitor for siding with the pirates in this. It wasn't exactly as though James had had a choice in the matter. He couldn't see his First Lieutenant Andrew Gillette but he recognized his Second Lieutenant Theodore Groves among Beckett's men and that alone was enough to not make him reconsider Atlantic's offer when he was shot in the head.

Against all odds, James had managed to gather them all on a sandbank for parley and was standing now in the middle of the opposing parties with Atlantic at his side. Elizabeth stood there flanked by Sparrow and her First Mate, Lord Beckett came with Will Turner and Theodore Groves. James was sure that Beckett had chosen these people deliberately. He must have known of the effect Turner would have on Elizabeth and Groves on James himself.

“Great, everyone is here”, Atlantic clapped their hands. “I now declare this parley started.”

“I don't see what there is to parley about”, Lord Beckett answered. “The pirates are doomed even though the traitorous captain of the _Dutchman_ is on their side now.” 

James knew that Beckett only tried to provoke him. He still answered because he had to say something anyway. “All I need to destroy your whole armada would be one word”, he answered calmly. “There are two reasons why I keep silent. First of all, I would have to carry over all the dead and do not feel the urge to do so. There are a lot of good men on those ships. Secondly, I don't believe your goal to be wrong, Lord Beckett, just the way you chose to achieve it.”

“One word?”, Elizabeth gasped in shock.

Atlantic waved their hand and smiled. “He made the pirates free Calypso and sacrificed his day ashore to that end. I think he earned a little favour from me.”

“And who would you be?” Beckett nearly made it look as though he had planned this discussion along with Elizabeth.

“Atlantic, Lord of the sea. The trump card.” Atlantic's smile widened. “Calypso was Lord of the Caribbean Sea. This here is my territory and should Captain Norrington ask me to sink all your ships, I would do it.” James was sure that the sudden wave splashing around his feet was to show off a bit of Atlantic's power. Just a little proof that Atlantic was speaking the truth. “Well, I am sure that you will find a solution that works without mass murder.” It was the first time that Atlantic's smile mirrored the dangers of the ocean.

Lord Beckett's gaze was uninterpretable, Elizabeth's as open as a book waiting to be read. She was afraid, afraid of Atlantic, of James. It was a sharp sting in his heart that sat in its chest aboard the _Dutchman_. “He murdered my father”, she hissed as soon as she caught her balance again.

“He chose his own fate”, Beckett answered coolly. “Helping a pirate is just as much of a crime as being a pirate. I am sure the captain of the _Dutchman_ is with me on this.”

At first, James was willing to agree with Lord Beckett. It was the look on Elizabeth's face and the memory of her father – may he rest in peace – that made him answer differently. “Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?”, he quoted and fought down a smirk. He saw light of recognition in Elizabeth's eyes – of course she recognized the words of her father that had made James give Sparrow one day's head start. There was also a short flash of something in Groves' eyes but it disappeared before James could name it.

James didn't trust his sight in the next moments. Since their first run-in with Jack Sparrow he had known that his Second Lieutenant held a certain admiration for the lawless lifestyle of pirates but he'd never guessed that he would be able to kill a Lord in cold blood. That hadn't been what he had wanted to say with the words of the governor.

“Well, this was unexpected”, Atlantic commented drily. “This should solve some of your problems, shouldn't it, ferryman?”

“So it would seem.” The cold answer was directed towards Atlantic but he could see Groves swallowing nervously. His Second Lieutenant knew perfectly well that James only used this phrase when he was upset. Perhaps he was even more than upset when looking at Lord Cutler Beckett who was near to death by a stab in the heart.

He was still at a loss for words when Groves spoke up again. “Forgive me, Sir.” Groves cleaned his sword's blade. “It seemed to be the only way to stop further bloodshed.”

“I understand your intention, Lieutenant.” James allowed one of his thin smiles to appear. Groves' posture relaxed a bit. “I'd still have hoped your first command not to be achieved by the death of your superior.”

William Turner perpetrated his rash deed to fast for James to stop. “Nobody move!”, he ordered, his pistol cocked at Groves' forehead.

Elizabeth screamed in shock, Sparrow only sighed as though he had expected something like this to happen. Groves himself remained calm while Elizabeth's First Mate wished himself far away. James had to suppress the anger that wanted to break free and run wild while Turner was pointing a weapon towards James' long-time friend. “Mister Turner”, James spoke, his voice cod again like it had been on the _Dutchman_. “You want to lower that weapon. Now.”

“My father goes free.” The determination in Turner's voice was hard to miss. He would shoot to kill. At least Sparrow kept Elizabeth from doing anything rash.

“That I cannot do.” James tried to answer calmly. He didn't want to risk Turner killing Groves. “What is dead, has to stay dead. Your father has no place among the living and everyone accepted that except for you.” Atlantic nodded along.

Will Turner admitted defeat. His shoulders sagged and he lowered his pistol. It was enough for Groves to knock it out off his hands and take his sword. “We don't want any accidents”, he commented with a smirk. “Mister Turner, you fulfilled your part of the deal with the company, so I don't see any problem with you returning from whence you came.”

Turner's eyes were fixed on James, he didn't seem to even have heard Groves. “Can I at least speak to him one more time?”

“That can be arranged.” After all, he wanted his crew to have regular shore leave even though James himself could come ashore only once every ten years. “And what about you, First Lieutenant Groves?”

Groves looked to the ground and then back up at James. “Captain Norrington, Sir, I doubt that my deeds will be welcome to the admiralty. Permission to quit and join your crew?”

Jack Sparrow snorted but James ignored him. It never ended well when Sparrow was given a chance to speak up. “I'd rather you join a pirate crew when it is refuge from the admiralty you seek.” He couldn't let Groves throw away the rest of his life. He deserved better.

This was the moment Jack Sparrow – Captain! – would no longer stand to be ignored. “Now, me _Pearl_ is always a place for a clever guy like you. As long as my debt to Davy Jones is considered null and void, aye?” James nodded curt. As far as he was concerned, Sparrow had paid his debt by being pulled into Davy Jones locker – and, frankly, he couldn't imagine a hundred years with Sparrow on his ship. “The problem is, that this fine lieutenant ain't got no interest in me _Pearl_ , my friend, but only in you, savvy?”

James raised one eyebrow. He hadn't considered things from this perspective and he couldn't begin to understand why one would rather serve aboard the _Dutchman_ than enjoy freedom. “Is that so, First Lieutenant Groves?”

“It is, Captain.” Had it been possible, Groves would have straightened his posture even further.

James had to compose himself for the fracture of a moment. “I'd have wished a different fate for you, my friend.”

“Me too, friend.” Groves' lips formed a smile that showed too obviously how young he was.

“Welcome aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ , Theodore. I'm afraid you will have to start as a sailor again.” James flashed one of his invisible smiles in Groves's direction and hoped it was enough. “You should go ahead and get yourself a cot.

Sparrow cleared his throat. “Very touching, all of this but there's still this armada waiting and this cold-blooded, filthy murder during a parley is all they need to eradicate us all, aye? I'd rather not die a very noble and heroic death, savvy?”

“Well, it seems that everything here is done except for the human drama”, Atlantic spoke up for the second time since the start of parley. “I am sure that I can create a little storm that will keep the armada occupied for a day or two. That should be enough for the pirates to scatter, shouldn't it?”

“The wind in our sails is all we need, darling”, Sparrow answered with golden teeth shining through.

“I can arrange that. I think it's time to remind the people of this world that the seas are not ruled by humans.” A thin smile marked Atlantic's face and it was beautiful yet deadly. “At least I'm nicer than Pacific. You should still return to your ships and get ready for rough weather.”

James turned away. He wasn't sure if he could bear to talk to Elizabeth now and he was very sure that he didn't want to talk to Sparrow and even less so with Turner. They walked in the other direction where a little rowing boat was waiting for them.

“Ferryman, aren't you forgetting about something?” Atlantic raised their eyebrows. “Someone died here.”

“I know.” James searched for the soul of Lord Cutler Beckett and reeled back as soon as he touched it. “I think I will return in a hundred years.”


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immortality, to a human, is sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Force bless my strained wrist for having to take a break from costume building and sewing and anything strenuous, really, so that I can work on translating this little thing.  
> For those, who know the original, German story ... well, a bit changed. Okay, it changed a lot and I like it.

Chapter 6

 

Jack checked the course again on his compass. There was no better feeling than taking the helm of the _Pearl_ , wind in her sails and around only the open ocean. His death by Kraken had put things into a new perspective. He'd always searched for immortality. Now it was his most important goal.

Without erring the compass continued to point towards an island shrouded in fog and mist and surrounded by dangerous reefs. He listened to every sigh of the planks, every lazy splashing of the waves so that his beloved _Pearl_ would not be taken by the treacherous sea.

Jack strained his ears. Hadn't there just been – ? Hadn't he just heard a voice? A low calling? He strained his hearing even more. Yes, there was something. A female voice and she wasn't calling, she was singing. Jack had only once listened to a more beautiful sound – when the _Black Pearl_ had been given free by the sea. “Mister Gibbs!”, he called for his First Mate.

“Aye! Me's hearing it as well.” And judging by the dreamy faces of the whole crew, they also heard the song, the voice that was calling them away from safe passage towards the reefs. “Jack! Is bad luck listening to a mermaid. Bad luck.”

“Then close your eyes and ears. And make them, too.” Jack waved in the direction of the rest of his crew. They had gathered at the railing to stare into the mists.

It was too late. Apart from Gibbs and himself everyone had been caught in the siren's trap of a song. More mermaids were coming. Inhumanly beautiful, young women with the tails of fish, all singing with those bewitching voices and yet unable to touch Jack's heart in the way the _Pearl_ did. Jack closes his eyes and concentrated fully on steering the _Pearl_ away from the sirens and the reefs while Gibbs tried to save the crew. The first one jumped over board and more followed. Jack tried his best not to let it get to him.

Then the screams started.

 

The _Pearl_ hit the sandy shore soon after. This was not working out the way Jack had imagined it when he started to search for the fountain. In the fog he could still hear screaming and the laughing of the sirens. He prayed for his men to die soon. It would be mercy. Gibbs was still with him, his face showing the terror that had gripped Jack's heart.

“Visitors again?” A woman stepped out of the mist, her voice rougher than the reefs they had passed. “It can't have been more than a year.”

Jack stared and no one could judge him for it. The woman looked like a relic of the olden days, a priestess of a pagan god that came to life from a copper engraving. A simple, white dress held by a golden broach – Jack tried to estimate its worth and came up blank – and the only other ornaments being more golden jewellery and pearls of every colour in her white, braided hair. But her eye, her eye was not that of a fine priestess but of a warrior, piercing him with a gaze to determine Jack's worth.

Eloquently as ever, Gibbs spoke up. “There's a woman, Jack”, he whispered audibly.

“And the woman is not deaf... wait a moment.” The piercing gaze returned to Jack. “Jack? Jack Sparrow by any chance?” In a short moment of panic, Jack tried to remember how he could be known on this remote island that he never had set port at – as far as he could recall, rum-addled as his mind may be. “Of course. Captain Jack Sparrow. No other pirate would be able to find this island and make it past the sirens. Welcome to Avalon, gentlemen. What say you about earning my support by telling me some stories from the outside. Talking to the sirens is dull at best.”

“Your support with what, darling?” Jack put on his friendliest smile and tried not to show his confusion at not getting what this woman was talking about. He also ignored the warning gestures of Gibbs who was most likely only overly superstitious again.

“Fountain of youth. That's why you came and sacrificed your crew, is it not?” The woman smiled back just as friendly although her words were a knife, sharp and deadly. Just as deadly as the woman herself, Jack was beginning to understand. He decided to treat carefully from now on. His instincts had never lied and at the moment they were screaming at him. “This island has a lot of fountains and not all of them are without danger to humans. I can show you which to drink from. The immortal Captain Jack Sparrow. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

“Now we understand each other, darling.” Jack noticed how his smile turned more earnest. “If I were so in the mood, what kind of stories were I to tell?” He tried to blend out the last desperate screams in the background. Gibbs was searching for his flask.

While thinking she ran her fingers along her lower lip. “Are you familiar with a certain James Lancelot Norrington by any chance?”

Jack nodded, surprised by the turn of the conversation and the new information. That's what the L stood for. Then he chuckled. “Lancelot? Now, that's what I call irony.”

“That's what I thought as well.” The woman laughed heartily. “Tell me about him. Tell me stories of how he was before he became captain of the _Dutchman_. Tell me about the woman. There must be stories about them.”

“You have no idea, darling.” Jack only had to decide which story to tell.

“Kelephas. My name is Kelephas.” Her smile grew a bit wider, just a tad too wide to still be considered human. “Darling is what you can call me after we've seen each other naked.” The screams had stopped. “But first, let me show you the fountain. And then we can talk about sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?”

Kelephas laughed, a dark hollow sound. “Did you think immortality is a free gift? For what we want most, there is a price must be paid in the end. I think Calypso still likes to say it this way. Haven't you ever listened?”

Jack frowned. “But you said I've already sacrificed me crew?”

Kelephas laughed again. “That's the price you paid for underestimating the path to immortality. You killed a lot of good men to reach this island, to stand so close to the fountain. Their souls are lost here. I'm not sure the ferryman will be able to find them in these waters and carry them over. That's what you pay for taking things lightly. Now, what do you pay for immortality?”

Jack redefined Kelephas in his head. This was not a woman. This was an old being, bitter and hollow, hiding in the form of a woman and drawing pleasure from other people's misfortune.

“And what about you? Gibbs, is it? Why should you deserve immortality? Why should your precious captain deserve it? Tell me.”

She circled them now. A shark in human form with one piercing green eye that saw all their sins. Suddenly, immortality became even more important to Jack. This seemed to be the only way to escape this damned island and this woman, this being.

“You know, there is only one way to escape the sirens. To have something more important to you than immortality because that's what they offer you in their songs, that's what they use to drown you. I think you should destroy what you treasure most to earn your passage to the fountain. Immortality, to a human, is sacrifice, after all. Now, witty Jack, take an axe. Get to work. And you, Gibbs, what is it you love most?”

The smile was that of a shark, a mermaid, just before her meal.

 

It was agony. Jack wasn't even sure what price Gibbs had to pay or if he even was willing to pay it and with every swing of that infernal axe he had been given by Kelephas, Jack's resolution was wavering. But then, he had already gotten this far. He would not give up now. And if it meant that his first act as an immortal human being was to rebuild the _Pearl_ from scratch, he would do it.

 

The water from the fountain was cold. Far too cold. Jack most definitely had not expected to be knocked out after just one sip from it.

 

He stumbled to the beach, to the shore where his precious _Pearl_ was waiting to be repaired by him. He had to get to her and never allow anyone to touch her ever again. He had to repair her, rebuild her, protect her from this infernal guardian woman of the fountain.

The _Pearl_ wasn't spare parts any longer. It was dancing on the waves just past the deadly reefs. Kelephas was standing at the shore, looking at it, carpenter's hammer still in hand, Gibbs at her side. She turned around when she heard him approach.

“Jack Sparrow, took you long enough to wake up. Congratulations on immortality.”

“But … the _Pearl_ …” He couldn't form full sentences. How could his _Pearl_ , his precious _Pearl_ be there on the sea when he clearly remembered dismantling here one swing of his axe at a time?

“My dear, witty Jack. I've been the goddess of craftsmanship on Atlantis a long, long time ago. Rebuilding a ship, especially a ship with such a bright soul as the _Pearl_ , is no problem to me.” She left Gibbs' side – what was that all about, anyway? – and stepped up to Jack. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Immortality, to a human, is sacrifice. Never forget that, Captain Jack Sparrow. The human mind never was made to withstand aeons and if you ever find yourself incapable of standing the tides of time? Come here and I will grant you the mercy of ending you. Enjoy your endless future of sacrifices and madness.”

She laughed and left. Jack stayed behind with Gibbs and for the first time he really doubted immortality to be worth it.

“So, what did she make you do?”, he asked to take his mind off things.

Gibbs didn't talk. He shook his head and just pointed to a small rowing boat that was supposed to bring them to the _Pearl_. The lady of Avalon never got to hear those stories she longed for, after all.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short chapter and the next one won't be much longer, I fear, but it will have a bit about what happened to Elizabeth and the Brethren after the battle - or, well, the battle that didn't happen

Chapter 7

 

All those years sailing the seas and James had never seen an undead pirate until he met Sparrow for the first time. Since that first, dreadful meeting, they seemed to pop up in every corner – cursed pirates, cursed, former soldiers. It was supposed to be the yearly shore-leave for the crew. Instead they found mummified, Egyptian undead on exactly that day in this specific harbour. James sighed and returned to battle. Seemed like they would have to stock up on rum in another port. This one would be glad to be rid of them. It was always like this.

James threw himself back into battle. Opposed to the rest of his crew, he could not step ashore to protect the people but he could travel to the undead's ship and release their bonds to this worlds there. That was one of the boons to being the ferryman of the seas. Now, after a few years with his new powers, he'd also gotten used to the slight disorientation directly after travelling. He'd also gotten used to being immortal which caused a massive uproar when the port city's people saw him with a sabre stuck in his abdomen. He hadn't even noticed it until they started to scream in horror.

“Captain”, Groves appeared next to him while he got rid of the sabre. “We took care of the undead ashore. The people won't want to see us again for a few decades at least, anyway. The city sustained heavy damage”, he reported, then hesitated. “There's something else. We had help and she's dying and wants to talk to you. The men carry her to the shore now.”

“I understand, boatswain.” James jumped from the Egyptian's boat into the water to reach the shore from there. He still couldn't help but wonder how exactly his old friend of navy days had managed to win the hearts of the _Dutchman's_ crew but he was glad, he'd done it. At least he knew how to work with his boatswain and as one of the mates retired, Groves would become one. The men liked him and James was glad to have a familiar face around.

The woman Groves had talked about had been put down within reach of the waves by Finnegan and Palifico so that James could talk to her. She had the dark skin of a woman of the islands and James guessed that she would have been beautiful, hadn't someone attempted to cleave her head open and torn apart her face. James thought he recognized her from somewhere despite all the blood. Perhaps he'd seen her face on a poster.

She didn't have much time left.

“You look good for a dead person, Commodore. Better than those skeletons.” She smiled weakly and coughed.

So that's how he knew her. She had been a part of Sparrow's crew during the whole disaster with Captain Barbossa and the cursed gold. Anamaria, the wild flower of the Caribbean, that's what she had been called but he hadn't heard anything about her after the battle of Isla de Muerta. Maybe she had changed her territory. “I appreciate the compliment although I doubt that you called me here for this, Miss Anamaria.”

She snorted. “No fine missus. First mate of Captain Teague and dying. You need someone like me on your ship? Still wanted to see the world before I go down into Davy Jones' locker. Or is it Norrington's locker now?” She laughed and then choked on her blood.

James knelt down next to her. What seemed like an eternity ago, when he had still been a commodore, he would have stayed standing but since then he had ferried enough souls to the other side to know that in their last moments they all just wanted a few calming words and he was the one to speak them. “I always need competent sailors on my crew as long as they are able and willing to follow my orders. Will you serve?”

“You're still a bastard, Norrington. Yes, I will serve.” Despite her harsh words, she smiled.

“Welcome to the crew, sailor.”

She closed her eyes and her breath slowed until it died down completely. James had seen it before. The _Dutchman_ was manned by the dead. Even those that were still alive when they joined, lost the spark of life sooner or later. He watched the wound closing itself and the blood being washed away by the sea water. “Palifico, gather the men”, he ordered while waiting for Anamaria to wake up. “Stock up the last of our cargo. We leave this place as soon as possible.”

“And our heading, Captain?”

“Singapore.”

The battle with the Egyptian's had shown him one thing. As soon as the _Dutchman_ did not follow its duty, there were people willing to attack it. There could be people able to enter his cabin and reach the chest with his heart. Perhaps, someone would even be able to steal the key. It had happened to Jones. James would be a fool if he put himself at the same risk.

First, however, he'd have to take care of Anamaria and dispatch the last undead so they could carry on into the afterlife.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not completely happy with this but it's the best I can do, I guess. Completely new content, by the way. This hasn't been written in German and I'm curious to see what else will happen with this string of the story. Elizabeth, after all, would never lat herself fade into obscurity.

Chapter 8

 

Elizabeth knew that Will was still at sea and that the children were with Gibbs, so she did her best to be prepared when she entered her small residence at the outskirts of Singapore. No one should be here and yet there was light shining out of the windows. She gripped her sword's hilt and hesitated. Then she breathed in deeply and opened the door. There were a lot of people who knew that she lived here but only a few would come here and it was not the time yet for Bootstrap to come for his annual visit.

Someone was sitting at the table in front of the chimney, the flames barely showing his face. His posture was relaxed and there were no visible weapons except for the dragon-headed walking cane leaning at the chimney. And yet, although everything about him was neat and controlled – the black clothing with bare hints of very dark blue, the combed back black hair, the folded hands – and although he looked like a rich merchant or undertaker, someone incapable of fighting, Elizabeth's instincts were warning her. There was something dangerous about this person, something deadly.

“Good evening, Miss Swann”, the person greeted her with a voice as deep and dark as the ocean. “Or is it Turner?” There was something full to its sound and yet it seemed hollow. Elizabeth shivered involuntarily.

She gulped down the lump forming in her throat. This man instilled a fear in her she hadn't felt since first realizing that Barbossa and his crew had been cursed. “Turner.” There was something off about her visitor, something other just like with Bootstrap and it made her want to run away. Still, she stood her ground. She would not be intimidated in her own home.

“Sit down, Misses Turner. I do not intend to harm you.” He smiled and it was the most horrendous thing Elizabeth had ever seen. It seemed real enough and yet it was like a mask's engraved smile and the man in front of her a puppet the mask had been put upon. His eyes were too dark, there was too much knowledge in them – just like with Calypso – and the even structure of his face was a bit too regular to be natural. Something in her – maybe her instincts – screamed at her to run, run as far away as she could.

She sat down at the other side of the table opposite of this man, no, this being. Whatever she was seeing here, it was no man. It was something terrible, something that had been witness to things no human could bear to know and these things were bleeding into the very air around it. It felt cold, it felt as though every drop of blood was trickling out of her veins. 

“What do you want?”, she whispered although she had done her best to keep her voice steady. Standing in the presence of this being was, however, a terrifying venture. With its attention fully on her, that black gaze piercing directly into her soul, Elizabeth found it difficult not to take a step back – or flee.

“Nothing. Well, barely nothing.” Another smile. The hint of teeth as white as bones picked clean by the sea's creatures. “You're the woman. You're guarding the heart.”

Elizabeth flinched and her hand gripped her sword tight although it wouldn't help her against this enemy. Still, she had to protect James. It was the least she could do. She owed him everything, after all.

“I'm not interested in the heart, stupid woman”, the being hissed, anger clearly evident in the mask-like features of its face. The shadows recoiled, seemed to flee the being just as the flames in the chimney did. They left nothingness until the moment was over. “The ferryman is dutifully carrying over the souls and I do not intend to interfere with his business. I was merely curious as to whom he bears the burden for. He may have stabbed the heart for honour but it's love that keeps him fulfilling the duty. I wanted to see the woman he loves.” The gaze of black eyes lay on her again and for a moment Elizabeth would have sworn she saw the fires of burning cities and the dark abyss that led to Davy Jones' locker in them.

“You did. Now, go.” Her voice quavered.

“I did not. I've seen Davy Jones look at the sea and what the ferryman feels towards you, is not the same.” The being cocked its head. “In another life you might have become the anchor for the ferryman yet you are not. Tell me, Elizabeth Turner, who is it that James Norrington hopes to meet after ten years on sea?”

She gulped down her fear, nearly choking on it. “I don't know. Now, please, go.”

The being chuckled lowly. “You are a brave one, Elizabeth Turner. You are strong. I think you're the first living person to stand me for this long without going insane. It would be a shame if you were already incapable of bearing my presence any longer. I was merely starting to satisfy my curiosity.”

“What?” She fought back for control over her voice and won. She could look at the being and feel fear flood all her senses and she knew that there was more than her eyes were able to perceive but she could fight it down. She had faced madness before. She could do it once more – albeit not for much longer.

“Don't play dumb with me. You see that this is merely a vessel, a hollow shell to which I am chained. You see that there is more to me than you can perceive. I've seen men's minds flee into madness yet yours did not. It's a rare sight.” He leaned forwards. “On the other hand, there must be something about you that made the ferryman pick you. You are an interesting human, Elizabeth Turner, and such is rare these days.”

“I'd still prefer if you would leave”, she stammered, her voice nearly lost in the growing fear of the being in front of her. This was no goddess of the sea, no undead or cursed pirate. This was something stronger, older. There were screams in the back of her head, screams that she should run, flee, hide. She stayed.

“You really are strong. I wonder how much more you could take before you break.” The being stood up, tall and dark and Elizabeth felt her pulse quicken. This wasn't fear, this was instinct, this was the very reaction of seeing her own death just seconds away, the world moving faster and slower at the same time and the breath of life tangible in the air – and then death didn't come. “You still won't give in”, the being said in amazement. “I have to admit that you are special and maybe the ferryman was right to pick you. You burn bright as the heart of a star.” The being walked over to the chimney and picked up the cane. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” The being turned away from the chimney, facing the shadows that seemed to come to life at closer inspection. “It really was.”

It seemed to fade into the darkness when Elizabeth found the strength for words again. “What are you?”

The being turned back to her one last time, lowly chuckling. “You know me, Elizabeth Turner. We've met often before. I just never announced my presence.”

She knew. “Death”, her lips formed when the disappeared into the darkness and for a moment she saw more than the vessel, the hollow shell. There stood the doctor with the devil's eyes that had nearly killed her as a child when she had a strong fever. There stood her handmaiden, Estrella, lacing the corset even tighter on the day of James' promotion. There stood she herself, drowning in invisible waters with the skirts pulling her farther and farther into the deep. There stood the skeleton of a cursed pirate, and a fishman of Jones' crew. For a moment she saw the Kraken again.

Elizabeth fought down the violent shivers of her body and tried to calm herself. Death had been here, she had stood in front of Death and she had stood her ground – more or less – and she was still alive. All those times, she had survived, just like this time but this … this had been the worst. Some part of her mind was still screaming to run, hide, flee. Maybe it would never stop but then... Elizabeth hadn't become Pirate King just by luck and Jack's games alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my - or maybe only heavily influenced by my - interpretation of Death as an anthropomorphic being. Think of a Pratchett's Death with Lovecraft having been the writer. Something like that, I guess. It's based on the assumption that no man/woman/living being can stand to be confronted with the absolute reality of death and stay sane.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been asked who it *really* is that James wants to visit. Well, finally, ten years are over. Have fun.
> 
> (chapter edited on 13/01/2017 to include one of romilly's very clever remarks)

Chapter 9

 

James breathed in deeply as his crew dispersed. Ten years had gone by, ten long years on sea and now his first day ashore began. He squared his shoulders and yet hesitated.

"Everything alright, James?" Theodore appeared behind him, carefully smiling.

"Yes, Theodore." They called each other by name now. The rest of the crew was already gone and they were off duty – this one day at least they all were off duty. "It will just be difficult."

"I don't envy you. Only met him once and really don't want to repeat the experience." Theodore grimaced.

James sighed heavily. "Well, I should at least look how my family is doing."

“Well, you might want to wear another coat.” Theodore grinned and pointed at the different holes that had appeared within the last ten years. James had totally forgotten about them. After all, there had been no wounds to tend to along the holes.

“Yes, I should do that.”

 

Theodore had left him behind on the _Dutchman_ to check upon his family – or Andrew Gillette. It was none of James' business. He was about to see his family. With a determined smile he stepped out of the surf onto the shore next to the steep cliff on which his family's mansion had been built.

He had been noticed. James hadn't even walked half the way up the cliff's slope before he was stopped. Remarkable, considering that the sun hadn't risen yet and everything was still covered in deep fog.

"Halt, in the name of Lord Norrington. Who are you?" The cocking of a rifle was clearly audible.

James smiled anyway. He knew this voice – Geoffrey, the shepherd who tended to let his herds graze on the pasture near the cliffs. "Just a visitor", he announced. "You can put down the rifle, Geoffrey, it won't harm me."

"That voice ... Blimey, young Sir, is it you?" Geoffrey laughed loudly and put the rifle away. "By the heavens, we were told you were dead."

Carefully, James stepped forward and took off his hat. "Yes, it is me, Geoffrey, but please, keep it a secret. It is better if some people still believe me dead." He smiled ruefully. Whether he was dead or still alive, was a matter of technicality anyway.

"But, Sir, we've been told the wildest tales. That you conspired with pirates and killed his Lordship Beckett. There were even some saying you commanded a pirate armada." Geoffrey seemed completely excited at the thought – and a bit shocked, of course.

"Let's just say that it is a long and wild tale I've got to tell and I haven't got the time nor take the pleasure in telling it." Everything that had transpired after he had lost the _Dauntless_ in the pursuit of Sparrow was something that he did not want to talk about. His father might just decide to hang him for treachery against the crown and conspiring with pirates.

"His Lordship will be overjoyed to know his heir is safe and alive. I am sure he won't mind the circumstances." Geoffrey tried to sound reassuring.

James snorted quietly. Somehow he doubted that. His father was especially known for his strictness. "Well, Geoffrey, I won't keep you from your sheep – they seem to run away, don't you think? – and will make my way to my father." He knew the way well enough and did not want to spend too much time in the presence of people who knew him before, well, before he died. He didn't want them to notice how much he had changed and why.

"Oh, shoot", Geoffrey started swearing. "What got into them? They always liked you, young Sir."

"Must be the time spent on the seas", he answered nonchalantly although he knew that it was the presence of Death surrounding him.

 

James used the time spent walking to calm his mind and yet, when he reached his father's study, James was in turmoil. Lord Lawrence Norrington tended to get up an hour before the sun rose, drinking one cup of tea accompanied by a light breakfast and checking the current state of the war against piracy. Then there would be exercise, overseeing the training of his sons and the cadets at the close academy, tea time with his wife, strategic meetings. The normal day of an admiral who could fight no longer. James remembered it all very clearly.

Curtly, he knocked at the study's door.

"Come in." It was an old man's voice that answered him, still full of strength but also fragile, so fragile, just like a diamond – strong but prone to shatter.

James breathed in once again, just to calm himself, breathed out and opened the door to step inside. Immediately, he felt again like the small child his father had raised to become a strong admiral. His father's stare was as intense as it was back then when he hadn't given his best and had rather gallivanted off with his younger brother Jacob. Involuntarily, James squared his shoulders, straightened his posture and crossed his hands behind his back. There would be admonishments to weather and the grey, piercing look of his father took in every detail to add it to the list of James' crimes. It took a lot of effort not to shift uncomfortably. He would rather return to Shipwreck Cove and argue with all the pirates at once instead of standing here but this was his duty as a son.

"So the rumours are true. You couldn't even die with honour."

James felt the old resentment bubbling up inside of him. He had suppressed it for a long time but now, standing in front of his father, he felt it again. He also noticed the faint presence of Death surrounding his father. Maybe it was there because his father's path to power had been over corpses, maybe his father would die soon. He didn't know.

"Conspiring with pirates, killing a lord, commanding a crew of pirates, making loyal soldiers of the navy commit treason, countless murders and arson as well as the destruction of a lot of ships and you dare to show your face here." His father didn't raise his voice. It just became as cold as ice, maybe colder. James bit on his lower lip. He knew not to speak before being asked. "So what do you have to say in your defence?"

"I only came here to bid my farewell, father." James did not falter, he could not allow himself to. "And in my defence: I did not commit even half of these crimes although I admit to conspiring with pirates, aiding in the death of a lord and, yes, more than half of my crew have been pirates before they started working for me. As for the loyal soldiers of the navy, I presented them with a choice and urged them not to take my side but just as I did, they decided to sacrifice their lives for something greater."

"My son has become a criminal. The son I raised has turned into an accursed pirate. Just what would your mother think?"

“Does it matter?”, James retorted bitterly. “You've had her committed to a bedlam.” It had happened shortly after James' younger brother had been born and James had only seen her on rare occasions since then before he had set sails for the Caribbean.

“As soon as she hears that her son has made a deal with the devil, her madness might become worse. How else could you stand here unchanged after years at sea?”

James straightened uncomfortably. He hadn't thought about that. His father hadn't seen him in more than a decade and James had remained nearly unchanged. He shouldn't have. Even for someone who had aged as well as his father, a decade meant change, a few more creases, at least a few grey hairs. James had none of it. Since he had become the Captain of the _Dutchman_ , time hadn't touched him as it did everyone else.

“I am not cursed and there was no devil on the waters I sailed that wasn't human in the end. Just like Lord Cutler Beckett and his ilk.”

“How dare you speak to me like that”, his father wanted to fly into a rage but James interrupted him by simply stepping forward.

“You overstep, father.” James narrowed his eyes when he felt the clamming in his chest. This … this was a moment he had only dared to dream of and now that it had come, he felt fear. “When you last saw me, I was a young lieutenant on a ship. I was your obedient, fearful son. Since then I worked my way up. I've been a commodore in my own right. I learned to make my own decision based on what is right and not what I was ordered." James took another step forwards. "I do not regret a single thing I did since I broke free of all you taught me. Your teachings have led me to the lowest point in my life, your teachings have made me bow to a despicable person like Lord Cutler Beckett. No more.”

“You dare to -”

“Yes, I dare to.” James' voice was steel, hardened and unforgiving. “Death has a way of putting things into perspective.” He smiled grimly. There were more words left to say yet it was not the appropriate time. It never would be. He turned around to leave. There were more important things to do.

"Never show your face before me again”, his father shouted after him.

James smiled ruefully to himself. "Unless you die at sea, I won't have to."

 

James felt strangely freed after leaving his father's study. Those had been words he should have said years ago. And yet he felt weighed down. That had been his father, after all, and he was leaving his family, never to return. There were two persons left, however that he still wished to see before he left this place behind. His mother was one of them and he prayed for his hopes to not be folly. She had been committed to a bedlam because she had been seeing things. The presence of Death, the fair folk, mermaids. Such things. Before, James had disregarded her fantasies as the ramblings of a crazy person. Now, he wasn't so sure any longer.

He still shuddered when he remembered the one day that his mother's madness had been seen in the open – she had always talked to him and his brother about the fair folk she was seeing but they had kept it silent. Father had never wanted anyone to know. But then … James shuddered again and felt the cold as though it had been yesterday. He had nearly drowned. James closed his eyes when the memories washed over him like the sea water had had that day.

He had lost his footing and gone overboard. The sea had been cold and unruly that day, an upcoming storm whipping the waves against the ship's planks. He had tried, tried so desperately to stay over it and then it had washed over him and he had lost his orientation when treacherous currents pulled him deeper and deeper. James had lost consciousness at that point but he knew that someone had pulled him out although the sea had been ready to welcome him with open arms. 

It was when they reached the shore again and his mother ran towards him that it all went awry. She stopped dead in her tracks and wouldn't embrace him like the eight year old son that had been given back to her. She didn't even get close enough to touch him. Instead she shrieked and whimpered about how Death had taken him away from her. It had happened in front of a few officers of his father's, so he had to have her committed to save face. 

Looking back, it really was ironic. Maybe his mother really had seen things that were hidden to normal people. For now James was serving Death, had been taken away by Death, so to speak.

His memory led him to the stables. He wouldn't be able to reach the bedlam just on foot. Somehow, he would have to force one of the horses to carry him although now nearly all animals, especially animals of the land tended to shy away from him.

"Halt!", he was ordered the second time this day. A sword was drawn in his back and it pierced loosely into his coat.

"I don't have much time, Jacob, so I would appreciate if you put the sword down." He turned around and looked into the face of his younger brother.

Jacob's sword fell when he recognized James' face. "Brother? But – what are you doing here? I thought you were dead. They all say that."

"It's a long story. Let's just say I can be glad if father still acknowledges my existence after this day." If he hadn't already done that, James added silently.

Jacob started to grin. "Oh, I remember this kind of phrasing from you. What are you going to do? Steal his best horse? Shame the family by gallivanting with pirates? I've been in India the last years on a diplomatic mission, so I didn't actually hear a lot about the navy."

James couldn't help himself but smile. "Something like that. I want to free mother from the bedlam."

"What?", Jacob exclaimed surprised. "Have you gone crazy?"

"Short version is that I've seen some things and I doubt that she's crazy." The long version included undead pirates, Lords of the Sea, a kraken, a cursed ship and a lost heart – not to mention the legendary island Avalon and other unbelievable stuff.

Jacob raised his eyebrows. "Enlighten me. I've had some strange experiences in India."

For a short moment James considered to somehow sugarcoat the truth but that had never been his strongest suit. Jacob would see through it anyway, being a diplomat that was his job. "I've become the Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and it's become my duty to ferry the souls of those that died on sea to the other side."

Jacob nodded carefully, contemplatively. "That is not what I expected."

"You don't seem too disbelieving." James couldn't hide the frown forming on his face. He had never been good in hiding his feelings from his brother.

"I've seen the _Dutchman_ once. And you." He bowed down to lift his sword and sheath it. "I didn't know it was you, then. I thought I was hallucinating. Six years ago, near the Indian coast. We had been attacked and I was drowning but a dolphin saved me and carried me to the shore. I could see you there. You were standing aboard the shipwreck just like you are looking now, all in black ..." Jacob blinked. "You still look the same since the day I last saw you. Maybe a bit more pale."

James nodded. "I remember. So that's what he meant when he said that his debt had been repaid. He had saved you." His brother shot him a questioning look. "The Indian Ocean, one of the Lords of the Sea. They all thought they owed me something because I helped free Caribbean."

"I see why you said that it's a long story. You've got to tell it to me one day." Jacob opened the door to the stable. "What about father?"

"He is dying." James tried not to let it get to him. Despite his brave words, he still considered this man his father and he had followed him for years. It was hard not to care.

"He has been dying for years. Oh – right, I guess you know better than I about death." Jacob laughed sheepishly and went ahead of James into the stable.

As soon as James followed, the more sensitive horses started to whinny. The mare closest to him reared up and tried to get away as far as possible from him.

"I also didn't expect that." Jacob smiled anyway. "I guess riding is out of the question for you."

"That's what I feared." He tried to keep the defeated tone out of his voice. "Can you go in my stead?"

Jacob grinned cocky. "Doing something stupid because my brother asks me to? Well, who do you take me for?"

"A diplomat", James replied drily. "So, will you do it?"

"Of course. I'll be back in four hours. Please, don't kill father until I am back."

"I won't. His time hasn't come yet."

 

Waiting had never been his strongest suit, James noticed after the first hour had passed. He wondered if he should just go somewhere else while Jacob was on his way. His steps led him back to the ocean, wild and whipped by the wind to break on the cliffs. If he'd still needed to breath, he would say that the air felt lighter here, easier to breathe in. The farther he had gone from the shoreline, the heavier his body had felt.

"Back already?", he was greeted by Atlantic. "I thought they were your family? Don't you want to spend your day with them?"

James forced a smile onto his face. "It's complicated."

"Oh." Atlantic sat down in the surf, their hair becoming one with the waves. “Did you know there are bets on whom you would visit?”

James frowned. “Why?”

“Well, the woman you love is married to another. But someone else swore that your relationship with your family is strained and considering that you are here with me instead of enjoying your one day, I guess said person is right. So we found ourselves in some predicament about who the ferryman's one is” Atlantic laughed softly. “Some were betting you would visit Sparrow. After all, you two have history.”

“I was about to have him hanged”, James corrected. “Not the kind of history to share that makes one want to spend time with one another. No, I rather fear that there is no one for me to wait for during the ten years spent at sea.”

“Oh”, Atlantic mouthed again. “So, what do you usually do in this kind of situation?”

Atlantic looked so utterly helpless that James just had to laugh. "I don't know either. I guess you offer to listen?"

"But what is that supposed to accomplish?" Atlantic lay their head to one side. "Humans usually have that look that you have now when they have a problem. How does listening solve a problem?"

James shrugged his shoulders and sat down in the sand, close enough to the surf that waves sometimes hit him and soaked his clothes that dried again immediately afterwards. "Maybe it helps them think about their problem from another angle and therefore helps in solving it? I don't know."

"So, er, do you want to talk about it?" Atlantic smiled timidly.

"No." James combed his hair with his fingers. "You could answer some of my other questions, though."

"If I can. If it's about being the ferryman, I can't answer them all. All that belongs to Death's territory is a mystery to me." Their smile turned apologetic.

"When I was up there in my father's home, I felt like something was weighing me down..." He couldn't finish his question. Had it been his father's presence or the distance from the sea?

"Oh, I don't know." Atlantic lay down in the waves, nearly vanishing and yet even more present because of it. "You belong to us just the same as you belong to Death. Have you met them already?"

"No. From what Kelephas told me, I should be glad about that." James remembered vividly what she had hinted about the destruction of Atlantis.

Atlantic laughed. "I wouldn't argue about that. Should I tell you a thing or two about them?"

"I'd love to." It couldn't hurt to know a thing or two about the Lord he had to answer to. "Just one question ahead. You seem a lot more amicable than the other Lords of the Sea I encountered."

That made Atlantic laugh again. "I like people but humans just die so fast and I was in a bit of shock after Atlantis so I didn't really try to talk to anyone. Also, I like you. The others mostly see you as Death's intrusion into our realm. It's a lot of politics, just on another scale. Don't take it to heart." Atlantic made themselves stop talking. "That was a bad choice of words, wasn't it?"

"I didn't mind."

"That's good. So. Death. They've been around for a long time, far longer than the other Lords of the Sea and I. I know that they have been different before Atlantis happened.” Atlantic shook their head. “Atlantis was a mistake and we still pay for it.”

“Kelephas hinted at that. What happened?”

Atlantic sighed. “I'd rather not talk about it. Ask … anyone.”

 

Atlantic had changed the topic to ancient Greece and some history they had observed. James just listened and tried not to think about how he spent his one day ashore. He slowly began to understand why it was promised to the captain of the _Dutchman_ that he would meet his loved one on this one day at least. Talking things through with his father had been freeing and meeting his brother a joy but it wasn't exactly fulfilling.

There was the sound of hooves clicking on the chalk stone of the cliff above. James turned around to see Jacob and knew at the same time that Atlantic had left. Now he only had to climb up again. Before he even finished that thought he had already vanished into the shadows. Of course, that cliff had always belonged to the ocean and the ocean was all the time working to reclaim it. He shouldn't be surprised that he could use his "vanishing trick" - as Theodore liked to call it – here.

Appearing next to Jacob's mare hadn't been that good of an idea. The horse reared up and nearly threw off Jacob and the person he was holding – their mother. Swiftly, James took a few steps back and tried his best to not appear any more threatening to the horse than he already was. 

It was for naught. The mare would only calm down after James was at least thirty feet away and didn't look at it. He could hear how Jacob helped their mother down and then got down himself. Their steps were softened on the damp grass.

"James, is it really you? It's not another dream?" Her voice had always been soft. It had grown hoarse with the years and fragile.

It took a lot of strength to turn around again, to look into the face of his mother that he had not seen for too many years. The first thing he noticed was how close to dying she was. He could practically touch the presence of Death surrounding her. Then he could take in her appearance. She had grown thin, thin like air, her hair had turned white as sea foam. Just her eyes still were of the same green colour that would turn blue in the right light.

"Yes." A smile appeared on her pale lips. "Yes, mother, it's me. I'm really here." James reciprocated her smile.

She clung to Jacob's arm to be able to stand upright. Her pride didn't allow anything else. Carefully, she came closer, careful, small steps. “You have changed, my son. I can't see you the way I used to. The shadow of Death is shrouding you in darkness. There is death, so much death.” She bridged the last distance between them and laid a hand on one of his cheeks. They were as cold as he was. “What happened? Oh, my son, what has the world done to you?”

James couldn't stand her touch any longer. “Nothing that I didn't deserve”, he answered with more heat than he should have but her words reminded him too much of Elizabeth's and the wound was still to fresh in his mind. “And I am repenting for the sins I committed, mother. That's what you see here.”

“Oh, my son”, she sighed again, “what have you done to yourself?"

James fought with himself for an answer. It had been fitting to tell his brother of what had happened to him but his mother, for all the childish affection he still felt towards her, was a stranger to him. “I … took on a new duty and this might be my last time seeing you, so I don't wish to talk about me. In fact, I won't be able to stay long.” He reigned the urge in to nervously clasp his hands behind his back. “I only came to see you for one last time”, he admitted finally. “And I have one question left to ask.”

“Ask anything you want.”

He had turned away from her, so he couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes. He could hear it in her voice, though. He knew, he remembered. “I thought you crazy for seeing the fair folk and the shadow of Death... but it's true, isn't it?”

When he looked at her again, he was the regretful son, the boy standing there and watching his mother being carried away. This time it was him that was being carried away, albeit not in a coach but by the waves, by legend. By Death. “I should have done something then, mother. I should have protected you. You are not crazy. You never were.”

“You couldn't, my son.” She stretched out her hand to him but he eluded it. He couldn't stand it.

“Maybe you have been right on that day.” In the end, he did clasp his hands behind his back. “Fare thee well, mother. I pray we never meet again. Brother …” He hesitated. “Take care.”

He vanished before his mother could understand the meaning behind his words. He had said his farewells to his old life, as he should have done years ago when he first sailed to the Caribbean. Now there were other places to be, other persons to visit before his one day was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter had to be cut in half. I, at least, do prefer chapters of a lenght like 2k up to maybe 5k.  
> Anyway, annoying immortals are my most beloved trope and there will be more interactions. Will I ever get to tell what happened to Atlantis? Hopefully. Neither Kelly nor Atlantic will tell it, though. It's painful history to them.  
> I am overcome with the dread of knowing that this story will be longer than the German version that counted 56k when finished.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me for forever but there was a really nice comment that made me come back to translating and finally finishing this chapter and here it is.

### Chapter 10

The _Dutchman_ was still lying in the waters of the English coast when James stepped ashore in Singapore. Here, the sun was only just rising and the fishermen, already an hour or two at work, were fast to scramble out of his way. After he had left England, he had tried to follow Kelephas' suggestions to make himself appear less otherworldly. He knew that people were still able to sense that something was off about him. He was the ferryman of the sea and sailed the waters of the dead. People sensed that. It didn't help – especially not in Singapore – that his skin had become even paler. Dogs barked when he came near, horses whinnied and cats hissed to change their course. The only animal not keeping a distance to him was a lone albatross that he found sitting on the Turner smithy's roof.

He smiled to himself. Of course it was an albatross, the one animal that legends said to be the embodiment of a sailor's soul that died at sea.

James took in the building. It had been built in a robust way although it didn't look like it. A very fitting home for the pirate king and pirate lord of Singapore. Inwardly, James still had to shake his head about this development although he really shouldn't have been surprised. The young Turner had the pirate in his blood and Elizabeth had always been too freedom loving to have herself chained down by marriage and society. With a self deprecating smile, James thought of the rings he still carried with him.

After the death of her father and her public appearance as king of the pirates, there had been nothing keeping the navy's wrath at bay and so she had exiled herself to Singapore. At least that had been said by the older Turner who always used his shore leave to visit his son. He had talked about two children and that Elizabeth was pregnant again. The third child had to have been born a few months ago if James' calculations were right.

He should have expected to be stopped. Elizabeth was, after all, the pirate king and rightful pirate lord of these waters – and did get along quite well with the Lord of the Sea here as far as James knew – he really shouldn't have been surprised that her home was protected. Although he couldn't die and had lost his ability to properly feel pain some time in the last decade, it was still distracting to feel a sword's tip in his back, ready to pierce his kidney. He sighed. “I would rather appreciate to not ruin this coat when I'm just here to visit Elizabeth. That's all your sword is going to achieve”, he said without turning around or reacting in any other way – that had already cost him one good coat once.

“Aye, I know, my friend.” The sword was put away and James would be damned if he didn't know this voice. Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. “Visited Avalon a few years back. You are missed.”

James raised one eyebrow. “What?”

“Come on, you remember Kelly, don't you? Pretty thing, alone on an island.” Sparrow gestured vaguely along to his words. “She's missed you.”

“No.” James blinked in irritation. “You've been to Avalon? … Kelly? Are you talking about Kelephas?” He had problems to fit the lady of Avalon with the name 'Kelly'.

“Kelephas is far too much of a mouthful.” Sparrow grinned. “That woman is a shark.” For a short moment there was something else in Sparrow's eyes but it was gone too fast to name it. “But far be it from me humble self to keep you from visiting the Turner family. Lancelot.” There the grin returned and James had to suppress a groan. There existed exactly one person in this world that should never know his second name and that was Sparrow. He would never get rid of the teasing – considering that Sparrow had been to Avalon, never seemed to be accurate.

Hesitantly, he opened the smithy's door. He didn't expect anyone to be awake already. During his whole career as a naval officer he had not once met a pirate that would rise with dawn while being ashore. At sea it was a different deal but ashore pirates liked to act like nobles. As loathe as James was to admit it, Elizabeth and William were pirates. Why should it be different with them? No, he would have to wait for a while.

With a sad smile, he sat down in front of the forge. He didn't need to sleep but in short, precious moments like these, he could close his eyes for a while and enjoy the memory of sleep.

 

James woke up from a light weight in his lap. Blinking in confusion, he opened his eyes. It was surprising that he had fallen asleep, and even more surprising that someone had dared to come near him. He gazed into brown, guiltily cast down eyes. Elizabeth's eyes. “Oh. Didn't want to wake you up”, a childish voice announced in a mix of English, Chinese and at least one other language that James couldn't identify but still understood.

“It hasn't been my intention to fall asleep”, he answered calmly and seated himself more comfortable with the boy in his lap. “Actually, I was about to visit your parents.”

The boy had Elizabeth's eyes and that was the dark hair of Turner. There was no doubt who had approached him.

“They aren't here”, the boy answered with a thumb in his mouth. “The soldiers are making trouble.”

James suppressed a sigh. He had the worst luck. His one day ashore, one day after ten years and Elizabeth was gone on some ship, fighting the Navy that was trying to get this part of the ocean under control after the Caribbean had become much calmer and less of a pirate's paradise.

“Jack Joshua Turner”, a voice sounded now, a voice James knew all too well. The boy's lips formed a silent “ohoh” before he proceeded to hide beneath James' coat.

The next moment, Joshamee Gibbs stormed into the smithy, his face full of experimental coal drawings and stripped down to his underwear. James wished that his memory wasn't as good as it had become because of his duty. “Good morning, Mister Gibbs.”

“Slap me thrice and hand me to me mama.” Gibbs seemed close to making the sign of the cross and stopped in the movement when James only responded with a tired smile. He stammered a few words that not even James could make sense of. Instead something else was beginning to make sense. Gibbs was here, Sparrow had just left. Maybe Gibbs had also been to Avalon and drunken from the fountain. He was surrounded by the same spark as Sparrow, it just wasn't that eyecatching with Sparrow. Gibbs on the other hand seemed more vibrant than James had ever seen him.

“It's alright, Gibbs. I've gotten used to that kind of reaction.” Once a year he was confronted with it when his crew had shore-leave in a harbour of their choosing and he stayed back, waiting for them to return. “Who is Jack Joshua Turner?”, he asked to change the subject.

“Second son of Elizabeth and Will. They married on the eve of the battle of Shipwreck cove.” Gibbs let himself fall heavily onto a chair in the smithy. “Darlin' boy he is, very clever but Jack and I were supposed to watch over him while they are out – Oh”, Gibbs interrupted himself. “Today is the day. Now that is bad luck.”

“Indeed, Mister Gibbs.” James had to fight to keep his face impassive. “But do continue. When I can't visit them, we might as well pass this day with stories. I would be rather impartial to stories about your new face markings.”

Gibbs put his face in his hands and smeared the coal markings even further. If he continued like that, he would be of darker skin than Anamaria. “Must have been Jack. One of them. Or both. Can't be too sure. Make more trouble than the young Miss Elizabeth in her days.” James raised one eyebrow. Elizabeth had been a very lively child but very careful not to get caught. “You haven't seen him by any chance? Any of them?”

James thought about an answer. “Your captain threatened me with a sword and then changed his mind and decided to go about his business elsewhere. I fathom that his hasty escape was caused by your predicament. As for the other Jack … “ James grabbed behind him and got the sought Turner in his neck. “He was hiding here.”

“There he is.” Gibbs rubbed his hands together. “Now what does a young man expect for stealing clothes?”

James let the boy go but kept a hand on his neck's hemline. He had the distinct feeling that the boy could be just as slippery as his namesake. “Giving back said clothes and - “ a child's crying interrupted James. “I guess this is the newest addition to the family?”

“Aye, young Anamaria. A maid takes care of her when Elizabeth is out and about doing her pirate king business.” Gibbs had found rum by now and seemed to enjoy every sip of it. “Little thing barely made it. Her sister was done in by the fever. Would have been twins.” He took another sip. “And then there's still the older brother of Jack, William James.” Gibbs looked at him expectantly when he said the name.

“Another William Turner. With that name, he will become a pirate. Just like this young man.” James shoved the young Jack closer to Gibbs. “Who had the grand idea to name their son after me?”

“Will.” Gibbs took another sip and held the younger Jack tightly, so he wouldn't be able to run. “Seemed to think he owed it to you.” He got up and threw Jack over his shoulder. “And now, if you'll excuse me, Captain, I got to save me clothes.”

James nodded his approval before he remembered that Gibbs wasn't part of his crew, hadn't been for years. His gaze fell on the bottle of rum, Gibbs had left behind. Nothing left. He turned the bottle in his hands, took in the smell and enjoyed the memory. His crew might be able to taste again, he wasn't. Carefully, he put the bottle back.

“You're not a ghost”, a small voice announced from the beams. 

James looked up to see who had spoken although he already had an idea. Jack Joshua was with Gibbs, so this young boy who looked at him with Elizabeth's eyes had to be William James. “And who said that?”

The boy let himself hang down a bit but still out of reach for James. That Gibbs had been friendly with James didn't seem to be enough for him to trust James. Clever boy. “The men in the harbour.” He couldn't be older than nine years, he shouldn't spend his days with sailors and their tall tales. On the other hand, his parents were pirate lords, so it couldn't be helped.

“So, the men in the harbour.” James had stood up and now put his hands behind his back. “And what else do those men say?”

Curiosity piqued, the young William inched closer. “They said you've been a navy man and hung pirates.” He nearly whispered. “Even the children. A short drop and a sudden stop.” He imitated the sound of a neck breaking.

James returned to his chair. “I think, young man, that is not the right company for you.”

William made a face. “But uncle Jack tells the better stories,” he continued hastily. James feared the worst. “He said you've been the best man he ever met. All with that stuff about honour and pride and a good pirate. And he said you love mom.” With a conspirational look, William bowed down from the woodwork. “Like with kissing and stuff?” When James nodded, his face turned into a grimace. “Kissing is disgusting.”

“Just a question of the right partner.” He regretted this wording as soon as it left his mouth. Of course, he knew what happened on his ship. Most of the time he wished, he didn't know this well what his men were doing in the long nights without a woman in reach. He also hadn't wanted to know this well what Groves and Anamaria liked doing.

William's face lit up. “That's exactly what uncle Jack said.” He slid down another bit. “Do you know uncle Jack?”

“I know Jack.” Most days, however, James wished that it were different. Other days, he remembered that without Sparrow, he would have lost the woman he loved – not to an honourable man but to the merciless seas.

“He's awesome, right?” William was beaming with joy. “He always brings us presents and tells great stories. He tells the best stories, even the ones that mom and dad don't want to talk about.”

“That sounds just like him.” James suppressed a quiet sigh. “Can I hear them as well? I fear my own stories are rather boring compared to those of the great Captain Jack Sparrow.”

“Uncle Jack talks a lot”, William said with ardour. “There was this island in mists and on it lived a beautiful woman, as beautiful as mom...” James knew exactly what island he talked about. “But I like the one more where uncle Jack is being hunted by Davy Jones and then you steal the heart and stab it. And then you become captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and uncle Jack really likes to tell this story.”

James wanted to say that it hadn't happened quite that way. Sparrow had left out quite a few ugly details like James' betrayal. Then he saw the bright eyes of William and decided to stay silent. Sparrow wasn't a bad story teller, so why ruin a good story? “So, he tells stories about me?” James smiled when he got the right idea to pay back Sparrow. “Now, I do know some stories about the great Captain Jack Sparrow.” Now James only had to decide which of Sparrow's mishaps to use.

 

With a quiet smile, James looked down onto the peaceful faces of William and Jack that had huddled together. James had told them stories of Jack Sparrow, polished stories of a legendary pirate with more honour than one would thought he had. Gibbs had corrected a few details but mostly just enjoyed that the children were quiet. He looked to the side. Gibbs had also fallen asleep on the ground. It was a strangely serene image in front of James but he felt the call of the sea. His time ashore was nearing its end.

“Didn't know you knew this much about me, mate,” a familiar voice spoke up, still quiet enough not to wake anyone. Sparrow. Of course it was Sparrow. Curiosity must have kept him from leaving earlier.

“I've been hunting you long enough, Sparrow. Of course I know a lot about you.” Anamaria had also filled in a lot of the blanks.

Sparrow stepped into the dim lights, a child in his arm. “You know, she likes your voice. Kept wriggling the whole time until she heard you talk.”

“She must have some common sense then,” James remarked.

Sparrow blinked. “Did you just make a joke? Am I hallucinating in me old days?” Still, Sparrow smiled. “Was a nice story you told, by the way. The brave blacksmith who saves the damsel and wins fair ladies' heart. Would have liked to hear the end of it.”

Of course. Sparrow had already fallen down the wall by then. He hadn't heard anything from William or Elizabeth until they found him. And since James had been hunting him relentlessly until Tripoli, Sparrow also hadn't had any possibility to gather any information.

“It's not a good ending. The pirate escapes by a hair's width. The blacksmith gambled his life and is only spared because of the governor's daughter's love and the love of the governor and the Commodore for her. Then the Commodore understood that she had given her heart to the blacksmith and set her free of an engagement that would have put them both in misery. Instead the Commodore continued to hunt pirates. We both know how it goes from there.” It took a lot of effort to suppress the bitter smile that wanted to show on his face.

Sparrow showed said smile on his face like he displayed all his emotions there. “Not a good ending indeed. Well, we both know that's not the end, isn't it?” Sparrow hesitated and then changed the subject. “You still not drinking any rum?”

“I could but it would be a waste.” James shrugged his shoulders. “You are looking over them when I'm gone?”

Sparrow swayed a bit. “When I'm close. Sometimes. You know, I'm pretty much sailing all the time, friend.”

James knew. He wasn't the only one called by the sea. His call just held a certain urgency and he wasn't about to find out what would happen if he didn't follow it.

 

Jack looked down at Anamaria and smiled. “Real good that the story doesn't end there. The Commodore giving his heart and soul to have the blacksmith and the governor's daughter live in peace and happiness. Sounds much better, aye?”

Anamaria giggled for an answer.

“Aye, thought you would agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I know, it's unfair that he wouldn't be able to meet Elizabeth but let's be real, it fits right into their relationship that the one day he could visit her, she would be gone. I also just wanted to have him meet the kids.


	12. Chapter 11

### Chapter 11

They appeared right at the edges of a skirmish between pirates and a navy frigate. The ships lay keel to keel and on both the battle was fought harshly. "Orders, Captain?", Maccus asked. One of his hands lay on his boarding axe that he so lovingly used.

"We don't interfere." James wasn't even able to decide which side to choose should he decide to interfere. On the one hand, his loyalty to the navy remained, on the other hand he felt a kind of closeness to the pirates.

Groves handed him the telescope with a grin. "Take a look at who's captain over there, Captain."

Without saying something, James took the telescope in hand and looked for the familiar signs of a Captain on board of the British war frigate. A smile crept on his lips as he found an admiral instead. The uniform with its golden decorations was worn by none other than Andrew Gillette, formerly First Lieutenant under James and at the moment busy with a pirate.

"So, we fighting for the navy now?", Maccus growled.

"No, we don't", James answered harshly and gave the telescope back to Groves. "Those are the battles of the living. We wait here and collect the souls that don't find the way on their own. I can feel even older ones waiting for us here." He felt them deeper in the water, how they fought against the currents and especially against the current that would lead them to the afterlife.

Next to him, Groves huffed a gasp and ran towards to railing to jump into the water. Anamaria tried to stop him but failed. The telescope he had managed to rescue and now he looked after Groves into the direction he swam in. Just like he'd thought. Gillette had been wounded and gone over board. He was bleeding. And Groves wanted to save him for several reasons James had had ignored because he didn't want to put his best friends in front of a tribunal as sodomites.

"Captain?"

James suppressed a sigh. Instead he leaned heavily onto the railing. He knew the rules - they sang in his blood like the waves - and he knew when he could bend them a little. "Help boatswain Groves back on board. Hadras, Finnegan, Murtogg and Mullroy, you go down and help the old souls."

"And what about the Admiral?", Anamaria questioned. James wondered whether she really thought no one knew her feelings towards Groves and his towards her.

"I'll deal with him." James halted when he noticed the curious looks from his crew. "What are you standing about? On your stations!" The looks stayed curious but at least they were busy enough now not to listen to every single word. He looked at Anamaria and quieted his voice. "You know, the two of them had been lovers and" he looked at Groves who climbed the _Dutchman_ with Gillette on his shoulder "I doubt that changed."

Anamaria shrugged her shoulders. "A woman can love more than one man. Wasn't it the same with the fine Miss Swann?"

James couldn't answer. He knew no answer and Gillette was now laying on the planks of the _Dutchmach_ so that he had an excuse to stop this uncomfortable talk. The young admiral didn't look good. He was pale and blood was gushing out of a wound in his chest. He whimpered in pain. James knew that Gillette wasn't much longer for this world, not because of his age that showed with a few greying hairs at his temple. Carefully, James placed his hand on the forehead of his former First Lieutenant. "Awaken", he ordered with the powers given to him as the ferryman.

Gillette's eyes fluttered open, his gaze unsteady. "Captain?", he finally asked, his voice weak with pain.

"We don't have much time. Do you want to live, Andrew?" James let his voice sound as urgently as possible.

"Aye, Captain." Gillete's eyes fluttered shut again. He was fighting for his consciousness. "Have a wife. She's pregnan'."

Of course. At least Gillette had managed to get a life after James and Grove both failed at theirs. "Then go and live." Tenderly, he closed Gillette's eyes. "And in thirteen years, when your pay is due we will wait for you where the waves meet the shore."

Groves' eyes melted soft when he looked at the healed albeit unconscious body of Gillette. "Thank you, Captain", he said from the bottom of his heart.

"Bring him back to his ship", James cut the thanks short. "And there you will mark him with the black spot." James doubted that Gillette would try to run. He was a good, honourable man. But this was the price to pay for making a deal with the _Dutchman_.

"Aye, Captain." Groves threw Gillette over his shoulder and this time walked through the shadows back to the navy frigate.

"I wonder whether this deal isn't harder on you than it is on me", Anamaria said off-handedly. "He was your friend and you condemned him to an afterlife in service instead of peace."

"Shut your mouth", James answered harshly. He wasn't in the mood for games now.


End file.
